


Revenge

by teffer



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Home Invasion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:05:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teffer/pseuds/teffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An enemy of Bruce Wayne executes a plan of revenge while Bruce is out of town on a business trip. The plan, however, gets more personal when the enemy finds out Bruce Wayne has a lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Break-in

**Author's Note:**

> I am not, by any means, a Batman or Nightwing expert. Heck, I didn't even know there was a Nightwing, or multiple Robins until a couple months ago. So please, some leniency would be greatly appreciated. I just like to play with the characters. 
> 
> Please read the warnings. This fic graphically describes scenes of rape. Those who do not wish to read that sort of material should navigate away now.
> 
> This fic has not been beta'd, all errors are my own. This fic is just for fun, I'm not a true writer by any professional sense, so you're likely to see lots of mistakes - sorry!
> 
> Lastly, these characters are not mine, and their use is for pure fun, not for profit.

“Do you really have to go tomorrow?” Dick asked from under the covers of Bruce’s bed.  Make that their bed.  It was still weird thinking of it like that.  That what was Bruce’s was now his.  Well, Dick guessed that it always was, in a sense, being Bruce Wayne’s ward and heir.   As heir, sure, Dick was aware of it.  But now that their relationship had progressed into more of an intimate nature, Dick was still trying to get used to sharing Bruce’s things on a _personal_ level, as opposed to just inheriting them.  Hence _their_ bed – not Bruce’s.

This turn in their relationship had caught Dick off guard. Sure, for years they had both longed for each other with distant looks and lingering touches, but it had never amounted to anything. Dick had never thought it would amount to anything either, too scared to do anything about it. However, at this year’s annual Wayne Enterprises Gala Bruce surprised him.

When the first guests had approached for the evening, Bruce had introduced Dick as his partner, putting his hand on the small of Dick’s back while shaking hands with their guests. Dick had instantly flushed, clearing his throat and looking at Bruce, before remembering his manners and shaking their guests’ hands as well. He surely had to have misunderstood Bruce’s meaning.

Bruce had carried on as if nothing was out of the ordinary – damn those bat skills – not sparing him a glance until their guests’ backs were turned, cautiously raising an eyebrow at the younger man, almost daring him to contradict the statement.

Dick had swallowed visibly, taking a swig of champagne while letting his eyes wander around the room, purposefully avoiding Bruce’s intense glare. He felt panic filling his chest, mixed with an insane embarrassment that was heating his cheeks.

“Did I say something wrong?” Bruce inquired, inconspicuously leaning closer to Dick. Bruce’s hand was still on the small of Dick’s back, its span covering more than half of the real estate, a fact that was causing Dick’s stomach to perform summersaults. “Did I read this, us, wrong?” Bruce’s words were quiet, a tenderness to his voice that Dick rarely heard.

Dick looked back at Bruce with wide eyes. He was desperately trying to process Bruce’s words, his stance, and his mood. As he let more of the meaning of what Bruce had said sink in, he realized Bruce must share the feelings Dick had in order for there to _be_ an _us_.

Something on his face must have given Dick away. The _no, you didn’t read us wrong_ , and the _finally, yes, please!_ must have been transparent, because Bruce gave a short nod, leaning in to quickly peck Dick’s cheek before he turned to address the new pair of guests coming towards them.

The rest of the night, Bruce didn’t let Dick leave his side for more than a few minutes here, or a washroom visit there. He ensured they were touching as much as seemingly natural. He would grab Dick’s hand and link it through his arm while walking around the ballroom, encouraging Dick to hold onto his inner elbow, patting Dick’s hand as they walked. Or he would escort Dick with a touch to the small of his back, or waist, which always caused heat to flare in Dick’s cheeks. While he had always wanted Bruce, he had never given thought to publicly displaying any sort of relationship. The fact that Bruce _had_ , and clearly _wanted to_ , had Dick’s head swimming most of the night. All of Bruce’s physical attention and knowing glances had his head swimming the rest of the time.

Tim and Alfred had not seemed overly surprised. Tim grunted out a “finally” in passing during the party, and Alfred had nodded with a “Very Good, sir” when Bruce grabbed Dick’s hand and said they were retiring for the evening. Dick didn’t know whether to be happy that they both approved, or infinitely embarrassed that neither of them had been surprised.

There wasn’t much talking about it that night. The moment they had been alone after the party, it had been all touchy hands and greedy mouths, feeding a need that had been building for years.

Their _new_ relationship had only been going on for a couple months, and this was the first time Bruce was leaving for business since Dick had moved into Bruce’s master suite. _Their_ master suite. This was going to be the first time they had slept apart in months.

“I mean, can’t one of your senior officers go or something?” Dick asked, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward on the mattress, just the sheet wrapped around his waist to cover him.

“No, I have to go seal this deal myself. My senior officers have taken it as far as they can; now I have to close it.” Bruce said, moving about the room to gather some of the things he wanted to pack. Alfred had packed most of what he would need, but Bruce always liked to get the last minute items himself. “I should be no longer than a week.” His voice was muffled from being deep in his walk-in closet.

“Is that all?” Dick asked quietly, looking at his hands, not intending for Bruce to hear his comment. He didn’t want to sound childish or clingy, but he wasn’t looking forward to Bruce’s time away. He looked up guiltily as a shadow fell over him. Bruce reached out, running the back of his hand gently down Dick’s cheek. Dick was always amazed with how tender Bruce was with him. Batman was stone cold, and even growing up with Bruce, he was emotionally distant. Now, it felt like Bruce was making up for lost years.

“I’d ask you to come with me, but Gotham needs you here. Tim needs you here. I need you here.” Bruce said, hooking his fingers under Dick’s chin and pulling upwards for a kiss. Dick leaned into it, desperate for the touch. When the kiss broke, Dick looked into Bruce’s eyes before nodding.

“No, I know. I wouldn’t be particularly fond of a sixteen hour plane ride anyway.”

 

On the fourth night Bruce was away, a wicked storm was on Nightwing and Robin’s tale as they made their way back to the Batcave. Patrol had been relatively simple, but constant. They had been running all over the town closing down a burglary on the north side, busting a drug ring in the south, then rounding up a few escapees from Arkham. It had been a busy night, but everything had been set straight and was back in order.

Dick fell into bed with a groan. Bed felt so good. It would feel even better if Bruce was in it, but he was too tired to let that stall him from falling asleep like it had the past three nights. He would have to remember to call Bruce in the morning.

Sometime later in the night Dick startled awake, not completely sure why. It was still dark outside. The storm was now in full force, throwing sheets of rain against the windows in droves. While the storm was quite violent, Dick was unsure whether that was what woke him. The room was dark, moonlight blocked from the clouds of the storm. Dick settled back onto his pillow, looking around the room. Something was off.

Lightning and thunder clashed brutally outside, flooding the room with light for a split moment. It lasted just long enough for Dick to see the figure looming over the bed, a figure he knew was _not_ Bruce, or Batman. It wasn’t Tim or Alfred either. Dick had grown up with the night’s shadows, and this one was a stranger.

In a rush, Dick threw himself across the bed, away from the looming form. But the stranger was lightning fast as well, grabbing onto Dick’s ankle before he was able to make it off the bed. Giving a hard yank, the invader pulled Dick back towards him.

While Dick’s first instinct was to fight, he had to remind himself that he was in his civilian form, not Nightwing. He didn’t yet know if his assailant was master criminal, or common crook. Maybe he was just a burglar, breaking into Wayne Manor for money, jewelry and fine china, and not here to attack a caped crusader. Dick needed to move like normal people would move, fight how a normal person would fight, not how Nightwing would fight. He couldn’t risk jeopardizing any of their secret identities.

Dick kicked out with his free leg, coming in contact with something before that leg was firmly grasped too, and he was pulled even further down the bed. The guy was strong, he’d give him that. He was big too, just as big, if not even a little bigger than Bruce. Dick turned onto his back as he was pulled towards the figure, ready to throw a couple of well-placed punches. His attempts were easily deterred though, surprising him a little. The stranger apparently knew how to handle himself in hand-to-hand combat, but Dick wasn’t panicking yet. He kicked it up a few notches, jabbing and kicking at key weak points in the body, twisting and bucking to get out of the assailant’s grasp. His efforts weren’t getting him anywhere though. They wrestled like that for a few more moments, Dick’s mind also wrestling with what else he could do without giving his super training away.

Then, without any warning and in one quick move the stranger simply pinned Dick down on the bed. Dick wondered if the man had been toying with him all along, as the move had been made with little to no effort. Dick breathed heavily, panic starting to blossom in his chest. Who _was_ this guy?

The strange form had Dick’s wrists pinned to either side of his head, one leg between Dick’s with the other on the outside of his left hip. Dick tested the force of the stranger’s restraint, and knew he’d have a hell of a time moving him as simply a “civilian”.

A husky chuckle came from the man above him.

“Well this is better than I expected,” the man said, leaning closer to Dick. “I didn’t know Bruce Wayne had a lover, which in and of itself is an added bonus. But for his lover to be none other than his ward, Dick Grayson? Well it just doesn’t get any better than that, does it?” 

Dick frowned. Added bonus? At least the guy had used Bruce’s name instead of Batman’s. Dick’s body went rigid as the stranger leaned even closer, his breath hot on Dick’s ear. “I got a two-for-one deal with you, didn’t I?”

Dick forced his breathing to be controlled, closing his eyes and turning his head away from this stranger. He quickly tried to think of anyone who might have it out for Bruce – not Batman – Bruce.  Whoever this was, he either didn’t pay attention to the papers, or wasn’t from around here. News about Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson being an item had been gracing the headlines weekly since the Wayne Enterprises Gala. 

Dick couldn’t stop the hitch in his breath as he felt the man move to rub his knee against Dick’s groin. What the _hell_?

“Get off me,” Dick ground out, attempting to break free of his assailant’s hold. He still wasn’t using all his strength or best moves yet, but he started feeling that he might have to. The man held strong though, pushing a little more of his weight down onto Dick to keep him still.

“Easy, now. Don’t make me hurt you anymore than necessary.” The man said, rubbing his cheek against Dick’s. Dick winced at the whisker burn. How had this guy gotten in here? Why didn’t the alarm go off? Maybe he tripped one of the silent ones, and only Bruce was aware. Dick really hoped that was the case. Was this stranger the only one in the house? There could be others. Dick’s stomach flipped at the thought.  If anything had happened to Tim or Alfred …

“What do you want?” Dick asked, keeping his voice assertive. He bit his lip in revulsion as he felt the man’s lips touch his ear.

“Revenge,” the man whispered before nipping Dick’s earlobe. Dick’s chest tightened at that. This guy was looking more and more unstable.

“Revenge for what?” Dick asked, twisting away from the guy’s mouth while flexing his wrists. He needed to get this guy off him and make it more of a level playing field.

“My whole life was riding on a business deal with Wayne Tech, and he pulled out. I lost everything, even my _wife._ ” The last word was growled. “So, I’m here to do the same for him. Take everything. You, my friend, are an added bonus. I also get to take his lover for the one that I lost.”  With that, the man humped down against Dick’s hip, and Dick could feel the man’s erection through his pants. The guy was actually getting off on this, and Dick’s boxer-briefs weren’t providing much of a barrier.

Dick swallowed hard; this was looking worse and worse. He needed to move, and _now._ In a split second, Dick shot his knee up, trying to shift and maneuver the stranger’s weight, or to hurt him, whichever one took. The assailant let up just long enough for Dick to be able to move and get a wrist free. While the man fought for control again, Dick was able to get partly out from under him. But despite increasing his risk at being found out by using a couple more superior moves, Dick was unable to get the upper-hand, or get away.  This guy was _good._ He knew what he was doing. And being bigger and stronger than Dick wasn’t helping either.

A particularly strong punch to the cheek had Dick seeing stars. His assailant took the moment of opportunity, and Dick could feel himself shifted higher onto the bed. He hit out blindly, the world completely fuzzy, but his arm was caught and pinned above his head. At the sound of a metal click, a sound that Dick would’ve known in his sleep, he tried to jerk his arm away, but it was too late. The metal of a cuff bit into his wrist.

“No!” Dick growled, lashing out with his free hand and kicking. He felt a couple strong connections, but that didn’t slow the other guy down. His other arm was pulled up and quickly fastened in the other cuff. Dick pulled at the chain wildly, but his hands remained above his head. The cuffs had been linked through the headboard – he wasn’t going anywhere.

Blinking a couple times, he desperately tried to clear his vision and bring his breathing under control. Everything was still fuzzy; he could only make out shapes. Unfortunately, that included the one hovering over him. He could hear the man chuckling again. 

“Well, well, well. Someone’s taken some self-defence classes. I’m impressed; you almost got away a couple times there.” The man sounded genuinely intrigued. “You’re surprisingly strong and quick for such a little thing.” He said, running a hand up Dick’s thigh suggestively.

Dick seethed. He tried to kick out, but the man was straddling his knees.

“Easy, now,” the man tried to sooth, running both his hands up and down Dick’s thighs gently a couple times, as if trying to warm him up, before moving to pull down Dick’s boxer-briefs. Dick twisted this way and that, trying to prevent the man from undressing him, but it was no use. The man pulled Dick’s underwear down to just above his knees, allowing it to become a make-shift shackle. Dick flushed, closing his eyes. This was so not happening. When he felt the man’s hand on his penis, he couldn’t help but flinch. 

“Don’t,” Dick gritted out between clenched teeth. He opened his eyes again, this time his vision had improved slightly. While things were still a little hazy, he could make out more of the details of the man. It was still dark in the room, the storm still raging outside, so he couldn’t see everything, but he saw enough to piece together this man most likely had a military background. His crew cut hair and camo pants suited him easily. It would explain why he was so strong and skilled, and potentially how he got past the alarm system. 

The man handled Dick’s genitalia for a moment, squeezing painfully while rutting down into the thighs below him. Dick pursed his lips together to stop from crying out from the painful grip, instead leveraging on the cuffs to try to pull himself away. The man just moved with Dick until Dick’s head hit the top of the headboard.

“Try and relax, kid. This will be so much easier if you try and enjoy it.” The man said, leaning down and pressing his mouth to Dick’s. Dick thrashed his head away, only to have a fist full of his hair grabbed and his head yanked back. When the man tried to kiss him again, Dick bit him, resulting in a strong backhand across his face, strong enough to cut his lower lip.

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” the man said, amusement in his voice. “No wonder Bruce beds you.”

Dick glared at him through the onslaught of stars returning, not in a position to do much more. With another painful squeeze, the man let go of Dick’s package, causing Dick to let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. His relief was short lived though as the man moved off Dick’s legs only to rip his boxer-briefs off completely. With his legs freed up a bit, Dick unleashed a couple kicks, one successfully hitting the man in the side of the head. Again, nothing slowed this guy down. 

The stranger growled slightly, baring his teeth at Dick before grabbing his ankles. Dick wasn’t making it easy for him, but the man was able to wrestle his way to kneel between Dick’s thighs. Dread laced through Dick’s veins as the man reached down to undo his own pants, pushing them and his underwear past his thighs to pool at his knees. Dick continued to thrash, kick, pull, and turn, anything to stop this from happening. He knows the word “no” slipped from his lips more than once. The man had a bruising grip on his hips though, lifting Dick’s lower half off the mattress as if he was a rag doll.

“Stop it!” The man’s voice boomed throughout the room. “Stop it right now unless you want me to go find another member of the household for this.” That had Dick freezing on the spot. “Perhaps a young teenager? What’s his name again? Tim?”

Dick swallowed, but made no further attempts to hinder his assailant. “Don’t you even think about-”

“Then I suggest you settle the fuck down, and just take this like a man.” Apparently any amusement the guy had earlier with Dick’s _feistiness_ was gone. Dick closed his eyes, turning his head towards the balcony doors so he wouldn’t have to watch his rapist’s face.

Dick heard the man spit a couple times, wincing at the thought of that being the only lube. He felt the man’s hold on him change. The large hands moved from his hips to his butt, kneading the flesh there before he felt his cheeks being pulled apart.

Dick evened out his breathing, taking deep controlled breaths. His eyes were still closed, so in his mind’s eye he tried to picture Bruce above him, not this stranger. When he felt the blunt tip of the man’s penis at his entrance, Dick took a deep breath, trying to will his body to relax. He knew the more he fought it, the worse, and potentially damaging, it would be.

“That’s it,” the man whispered as Dick relaxed, slowly starting to hump his hips forward into Dick. Dick bit back a groan, a pained frown marring his features. There wasn’t enough lube. He could feel skin pulling on skin. The man pulled Dick’s cheeks wider apart, thrusting even harder. When he was finally penetrated, Dick let out a choked off yelp, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter, pulling desperately on his cuffs. The bite of the cuffs helped mute the pain elsewhere.

The man above him moaned, forcing himself further and further in with little to no moisture. Dick felt swollen already, his entrance screaming from the brutality. 

“So tight,” the man moaned, pulling partially out before thrusting himself back in. Dick’s assailant started a steady rhythm, not enough lube to allow for deep thrusts, but enough friction to make it excruciatingly painful. _Just breathe,_ Dick chanted in his mind, walking himself through the pain management techniques Bruce had taught him.

The man pulling out broke Dick’s focus though. A startled yelp fell from Dick as the man then flipped him over onto his knees. Again, he moved Dick easily, as if handling a man was nothing. Dick was now twisted over, facing down into a pillow, the chains of the cuffs clanking as they crossed. The man hoisted Dick’s hips up to the height he wanted before Dick heard him spitting again. All too soon, the blunt head was forcing him open again.

This time, the man took up a more forceful tempo, pounding into Dick so hard his head kept hitting the headboard despite fighting against it. Dick had trouble controlling his breathing this time, wincing at each push and pull, not being able to hold back a whimper on particularly hard thrusts.

“You sound so pretty,” the man murmured, grabbing a fist full of Dick’s hair and pulling his head back, forcing Dick to arch his body as far back as he could within the restraint of the cuffs. Dick held on to the headboard, counting time in his mind to prove that time hadn’t stopped, despite it feeling like it had. After what felt like an eternity, the man behind him gave a few sharp cries before stiffening. 

Satiated, the man shoved Dick’s head forward while letting go of his hair, then roughly pulled himself out of the young body. Dick felt the man shove his hips to the side and allowed himself to fall with the momentum. The vice on his chest eased slightly as his tormentor crawled off the bed. Dick laid on his side, evening out his breathing once again, trying to block out the feel of wetness running down his thigh.

“Now, that was something.” The man said, letting out a low whistle while pulling his pants back up. “We’re going to have to do that again.” Dick pressed his face further into the pillow at that, otherwise staying absolutely still. He could still smell Bruce on the pillowcase, making his heart twist in his chest. _Bruce._ God, how could Dick have let this happen? What would Bruce think?

“But first, let’s go see what the rest of the family is up to, shall we?”


	2. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see chapter 1 for notes.

When Dick was ushered out of the master suite, he was thankful he was clad in boxer briefs and pajama bottoms. His assailant had cuffed his wrists behind his back, and was practically hauling him down the corridor with a firm grip on his left upper arm. The man hadn’t bothered cleaning either of them up before leaving the room. Dick grimaced, feeling the evidence of his assault as he walked.

Weighing whether to try anything during their journey through the manor, he decided against it. Without knowing where the other members of the household were, or what was happening to them, Dick didn’t want to take any chances. He needed to find out what this was all about, and how he could get them out of it.

The light in the hallway allowed for closer inspection of the intruder. He was easily in his fifties, 6’2’’ or more. Grey speckled his otherwise dark hair. Hard lines also marred the man’s face. Some lines were from age, but there were several scars as well. He was a wall of muscle, yet had shown surprising agility during their earlier altercation. Dick allowed himself a smirk when he saw the man hadn’t gotten away from their fight unscathed. There were a couple bruises already coming to surface, and a red gash on his lip from where Dick had bit him.

When they had made their way downstairs and into Bruce’s study, Dick was relieved to see both Tim and Alfred sitting on one of the couches. They looked no worse for wear. Tim was displaying what could only be a teenage bitch face, while Alfred was sitting there stoically. Neither of them were cuffed – figures. Dick squared his shoulders. He needed to be strong for them; he couldn’t show any signs of anxiety or discomfort. Despite what had just occurred upstairs, Dick needed to put that aside and take the lead for his family.

After a quick sweep of the room, he realized this was a bigger invasion that he first thought. There were eight other men in the room with semi-automatic weapons, all guarding the entrances, including the windows. They were similar in build to his assailant, and wearing similar military clothing. It would be an interesting scenario for Robin and Nightwing to get out of, but too much for Tim Drake and Dick Grayson to handle as civilians, especially taking into account Alfred’s safety.

In passing, Dick’s assailant roughly pushed Dick face down onto the couch with Tim and Alfred, continuing towards Bruce’s desk without a second look. Heading face first into the couch without hands to brace him, Dick practically fell onto Tim and Alfred, the two men helping to stabilize him before he was able to sit back on his own.

“Are you two alright?” Dick whispered, taking a quick visual inventory of the two now that he was closer. His vision was still slightly off, most likely a concussion he concluded, but he was still able to make out that Tim and Alfred were unharmed. At least that’s how it appeared on the surface. “Did they do anything to you? Did they hurt you?” Dick’s eyes drilled into Tim. He would be sick if they had done to Tim what Dick’s assailant had done to him.

“No, we’re fine.” Tim said, shaking his head. “They brought us down here half an hour ago. I wasn’t able to do much with four guns pointed at me.” He sounded quite put out by that.

“No, that’s good. We can’t forget _who we are_ in this matter.” Dick said, keeping his voice to a whisper, clearly conveying his meaning through his expression. There was to be no Robin or Nightwing here. “This is a Wayne Tech matter. Nothing more.”

Tim frowned while Alfred lifted his brow in shock. Well, as much shock as Alfred shows.

“A Wayne Tech matter, Master Dick?” Alfred queried. Clearly, they didn’t know what was going on.

Dick shook his head slightly, “I don’t know much. Just that the guy that brought me in here had some big deal with Wayne Tech, and Wayne Tech pulled out. He said he’s here for revenge.”

“Oh joy,” Tim murmured, frown deepening. “Did they plan this for when Bruce wasn’t here, or are they pissed he’s not present?”

“No clue.”

“Does revenge mean ransom?”

“Again, I don’t know. He wasn’t exactly offering up the particulars of his plan, Tim. Not yet at least.”

“They got past the alarm system. I didn’t hear anything. Just woke up with a gun in my face.” Tim frowned, clearly expecting answers from Dick. Unfortunately, Dick didn’t have any for him.

Dick glanced over at the man who, not even half an hour ago, had taken him against his will. He seemed to be the man in charge, now sitting at Bruce’s desk, the ego trip painted on the man’s face. He had equipped himself with a side-holstered gun, and was now looking at a laptop with one of his men. They were definitely working on something.

“It looks like you went a round with your guy, though,” Tim said, bringing Dick’s attention back to his family. Dick swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He couldn’t help but hear the double entendre that Tim had unknowingly presented.

“I, yeah … The guy is skilled.” Dick said, feeling his cheeks heat up despite his attempts at cooling his resolve. “I’d say military, or ex-military. He fought like it was nothing.” Dick shivered as he remembered how the man had so easily pinned him. He had been nothing but prey in a simple game of cat-and-mouse.

As if the man knew Dick was thinking of him, he glanced up at the three on the couch. He slowly rose from the desk and made his way back towards them, a smug smile on his face.

Dick cleared his throat and averted his eyes. He stared out of the massive south-east facing windows of the study. The storm had moved on, and the sky was starting to lighten with the promise of dawn.

When the man reached the couch, he knelt before the three while maintaining his distance, his expression mockingly warm. One of his men came to stand behind the couch. The warning was clear – don’t try anything. He surveyed all three carefully before pulling his gun out of its holster. He waived it around aimlessly as he began talking.

“What a nice little family,” he started, “antique butler, subservient lover, and latest acquisition. Wayne should be proud.”

“Who are you, and what do you want?” Dick asked, trying to cut through the crap.

“I told you, revenge.” The man said, standing up. He deftly side-stepped Dick’s first question. “I want back what Wayne took from me.”

“He didn’t take anything. He said no to a business deal. How was he to know what you invested into it? The risks you took?” Dick questioned, feeling anger flare in his gut. If this guy didn’t know where to draw the line between business and his personal life or finances, it wasn’t Bruce’s fault.

The man’s eyes turned icy, his face growing hard.

“Look at you, the loyal lover. You don’t even know the circumstances. You just blindly defend him.” Mirth danced in his eyes as he took a step towards Dick, running his gun down the younger man’s cheek. Dick turned his head away from the cold metal, still watching the man warily. Only Bruce had ever touched him so … _intimately._ “Will you defend _all_ your lovers so fiercely?”

Dick clenched his jaw. He understood the man was referring to himself as a lover, but Dick didn’t want to respond and let that piece of information out of the bag if he didn’t have to. He didn’t want Tim and Alfred to know what happened upstairs. The man sneered when Dick didn’t rise to the bait.

“We’re ready, Mac.” A soldier called from behind the laptop.

“We’re on a tight timeline, so let’s get to it, shall we?” The man – Mac – suggested. He stood back from the couch, turning to walk towards the windows. “At first, this was going to be a two-step process: a $150 million transfer, and the acquisition of some sensitive Wayne Tech documentation. All the while, we’d put the fear of God into Wayne by using his precious family to do it.” The man rounded back to them, stopping directly in front of Dick. He reached out, firmly grasping Dick’s chin and pulling it up to face him. “With some newly attained information upstairs, however, we’re going to modify the plan a little.”

Dick frowned. Mac’s earlier surprise at finding Dick in Bruce’s bed rushed back to him, making his stomach twist in unease. _A lover for a lover._ _Not again, not in front of Tim and Alfred._

Seeing comprehension dawn in Dick’s eyes, and a brief plea _not to do this_ cross the young man’s features, Mac wound his hand up through Dick’s hair, getting a firm grip before yanking the younger man off the couch. Dick let out a hiss, landing on his knees before his assailant, but let out no other sign or sound of discomfort.

“Hey!” Time yelped, immediately rising to his feet to come to Dick’s defense, only to stop short when Mac turned his gun on him. Time seemed to slow for a moment, Dick’s heart leaping up into his throat in sheer panic.

“Tim, sit down!” Dick commanded, his voice sounding overly harsh, even to him. Dick cast a deadly sideways stare at the teen, willing him to follow the order. Tim’s eyes narrowed, but Dick wasn’t sure whether it was in defiance, or whether he was trying to stare Mac down. Alfred gently rested a hand on Tim’s forearm, pulling the young man back down onto the couch.

“Now, now, Master Tim,” Alfred soothed, eying the gun warily. Dick could see Tim wasn’t happy, but they had to keep up appearances. They couldn’t risk putting their identities, or Alfred’s safety in danger.

Mac kept his gun pointed on the youngest member of the household. Dick’s gaze wandered from the end of the barrel to his assailant. He could practically feel Mac’s temper rolling off him in waves.

“Don’t shoot him, he’s just a kid in a stressful situation.” Dick said, wanting to draw Mac’s attention back to him and away from Tim. Dick swallowed thickly, urging his heart back down into his chest instead of in his throat. “If you want to shoot anyone, shoot me. Leave them both out of this.”

Mac’s cold, blue eyes fell on Dick’s face, squinting in careful consideration before he dropped his hand from Dick’s hair and rested it on the button of his pants. His eyes surveyed the blossoming bruise on Dick’s cheek along with his split lip, seemingly admiring his own handiwork.

“Can’t lose you yet, Grayson. You’re the two-for-one deal. Remember?” Mac said, his voice low but tight. He slowly started unbuttoning his camo pants, reaching in to fondle himself obscenely before pulling out his half-hard cock.

“Suck it,” his assailant commanded. Dick closed his eyes, cheeks burning in humiliation as he hung his head slightly. It was going to happen again.

“Fuck no.” Tim growled from the couch, but he didn’t try and get up.

“Watch your mouth,” Dick shot back to the teen, eyes ablaze, desperately wanting the teen to shut up so he would stop drawing Mac’s attention. That, and so Dick could pretend Tim wasn’t there. He desperately didn’t want to do this in front of his family. For the rest of their lives there would be looks of pity and sadness whenever either of them remembered this moment. None of them could escape it.

“No,” Mac huffed, “he’ll be watching _your_ mouth.” Dick closed his eyes in disgust. “And if I feel any teeth, Tim here is going to get a bullet in his brain before you can even blink.” Grabbing the back of Dick’s head, Mac pulled his cuffed prey closer to his groin.

Dick took a breath, licking his lips and mentally steeling his mind. There was no question – no choice. They weren’t the ones in control, not as civilians. As long as Tim, Alfred, and Bruce remained safe, as long as they all lived, Dick was more than willing to sacrifice this. He would pick up his dignity and self-worth on his way out the door.

“C’mon, baby. Open up,” Mac whispered huskily, moving to rub his thumb roughly along Dick’s lower lip. Dick winced at the sting of the cut re-opening. “I won’t ask you again.”

Opening his mouth, Dick started to lap at the circumcised penis, bathing it with his tongue. He could taste and smell evidence from their earlier session, causing him to swallow thickly as the memories tried to bubble up his throat. Tim was making weak noises from the couch that Dick was trying desperately to ignore. He couldn’t think of them while he did this.

Mac groaned, cupping Dick’s cheek. Dick hesitated, expecting a blow that never came, before he continued his ministrations. Sliding his thumb into Dick’s mouth, Mac forced Dick’s jaw open, guiding his cock into Dick’s warmth. When he hit the back of Dick’s throat, Dick leaned back a little, quelling the urge to gag. While Bruce and Dick had been intimate many times since the Gala, Dick hadn’t yet perfected the blow job. He wasn’t able to take it in deep – into his throat – his gag reflex was just too strong. Apparently, Mac didn’t really care about a gag reflex though. He grabbed the back of Dick’s head to stop him from retreating further as he pushed farther in.

“Don’t move a fucking muscle,” Mac growled out. When Dick looked up questioningly, he saw that Mac’s focus was on Tim, not him. “If you do, Murphy here is going to shoot you, then the old man.” Mac said, nodding to the man with the gun still standing directly behind the couch.

When he felt like he got his message across, Mac holstered the gun, grasping Dick’s head with both hands before shoving his hips forward violently.

Dick felt his eyes sting with unshed tears, desperately trying to drag in breaths between his assailant’s relentless thrusts. He could do this; he just had to focus on his breathing. Sex was all about rhythm, he just had to breathe around this guy’s rhythm.

“Easy, now,” Mac practically soothed, making Dick’s stomach clench nauseously. Continuing to hold Dick’s head tightly, he moved a couple steps forward so he was essentially straddling Dick’s shoulders, leaning Dick’s center of gravity back over his bent knees. The angle took any advantage away from Dick, providing Mac with sole control of depth and tempo.

Dick felt tears streaking down his cheeks, his airflow now completely cut off as Mac fucked his throat incessantly. Dick had no leverage while being literally held up by this monster. If Mac let go, Dick would fall to the floor, his balance off center. He was completely at Mac’s mercy. He fought losing consciousness as black spots danced in his vision from the lack of oxygen.

Distantly he could hear Tim yelling something, but he couldn’t string all the words together. It had to do with choking, he got that much. Alfred’s voice was mixed in there as well.

Just when Dick thought he was going to pass out, he was let go, immediately falling back onto his cuffed hands. He rolled onto his side as he coughed, choking further on semen as he gasped for air. Once he was able to get in a few good breaths and supress the urge to gag, he spit out the remaining semen from his mouth. He tried to get his bearings, fighting to return his breathing to normal. He didn’t want Tim and Alfred to worry more than they probably already were.

Before he could fully collect himself, Dick was hauled to his feet. He swayed slightly, feeling dizzy and light headed. Restricting air flow on an already concussed mind probably wasn’t ideal. He knew he’d had worse though, and yet survived.

Mac pushed Dick towards Bruce’s desk, his gun was back in his hand, poking Dick’s shoulder blades to steer him in the direction he wanted. When Dick reached Bruce’s leather chair, Mac undid his cuffs before pushing him down into the seat. The laptop was placed in front of him. Dick flexed his hands, trying to work the circulation back into his fingers, grimacing as the feel of pins and needles rushed down his arms. He wiped at his mouth at the first opportunity. He’d give anything to get the taste gone. Blinking his eyes, he tried to focus on the blurry screen. He couldn’t make out a thing.

“As I mentioned, we’re on a tight timeline. You and junior over there are going to help us out, and quickly.” Mac said, his voice coming from just over Dick’s shoulder. “First, you’re going to authorize a transfer from Wayne Tech to an offshore account for $150 million.”

Dick swallowed, shaking his head. Didn’t these guys do their homework?

“I don’t have any signing authority for Wayne Tech, Wayne Enterprises, or any of Bruce’s corporations.” Dick tried to sound annoyed, but his voice was so raspy he was barely able to force it out above a whisper.

“Bullshit,” Mac growled, pressing his gun firmly into Dick’s temple. Dick saw both Tim and Alfred react from overtop of the monitor, but luckily, they both stayed put. “You’re Wayne’s ward, his heir, his lover for fuck’s sake. You have access.”

Dick could feel a cold sweat break out, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the situation, or his injuries.

“I don’t have access for this very reason.” Dick tried to explain patiently. “It may be different if I worked for Bruce, but I don’t. It would make no sense for me to have signing authority for companies I don’t understand.”

Dick didn’t even see the gun being brought back before he was hit upside the head with it. He winced, but didn’t make a sound.

“You’re fucking lying, you little shit,” Mac seethed, pointing his gun towards Tim and Alfred sitting on the couch. Murphy took aim as well. Something told Dick Mac probably had a very accurate shot. Even if Mac did miss, Murphy wouldn’t. Dick closed his eyes in defeat just as Mac took off the safety.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have access to personal accounts.” Dick whispered. Mac glanced down at Dick, weighing the younger man’s words. “Would that work?” The safety was put back on.

“You’ve got five minutes.”

“I can’t do it that fast. The accounts have transfer and withdrawal limits if I sign in electronically. I have to phone in for authorization.”

“No phone calls.” Mac hissed.

Dick swallowed. _Think._

“Bruce’s electronic account is the only one that doesn’t have restrictions on transferring funds.” Dick knew he needed to tread slowly and carefully here. Mac had to think this was his own idea.

“Then sign in with his account,” Mac’s tone was thick with exasperation. Dick looked over at the older man. This needed to look genuine.

“I can’t. I don’t have his login information.” Dick expected a blow when Mac moved toward him, but the bigger man just hovered over him, one arm resting on the back of the chair behind Dick, the other resting on the desk. He studied Dick carefully.

A tense silence fell over the room. Mac was thinking.

With a wave of Mac’s hand, Murphy shoved Tim off the couch before coming around behind the teen, his gun trained on him. Tim didn’t move from where he landed on his knees, facing Dick and Mac. He slowly raised his hands in a display of cooperation.

Mac picked up the phone on the desk, holding the receiver out to Dick.

“You have two minutes. If I so much as _think_ you’re warning Wayne in any way – that this mission is jeopardized in any way – Tim’s dead. Got it?”

Dick nodded, taking the receiver from Mac. He shot Tim his best “ _it’s okay”_ look while he slowly and methodically dialed Bruce’s cell number.

Show time.


	3. The Veil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 1 for original notes. 
> 
> I tried to get this one out quickly, so there may be a number of errors. Sorry in advance!

“Wayne,” Bruce’s voice was solid over the line, the connection clear. Dick closed his eyes for a beat, savoring the sound of the man who meant everything to him. How he wished Bruce was here right now. Everything always seemed so much more manageable when Bruce was around, the pressure of any situation lighter. Bruce had a calming effect on him.

Mac hit the speakerphone button as soon as Bruce answered, pulling a frown out of Dick.

Judging by the light outside, it seemed just past six in the morning, meaning it would be just past six at night where Bruce was. Clearing his throat – his tell – Dick started a veiled conversation.

“Bruce, hey, sorry I’m calling so early. I was going to call around 9, but I couldn’t sleep. Am I interrupting a meeting?” _Something’s wrong._ _There’s 9 of them – Wayne Manor._ _Are you aware of the situation?_

Dick’s chest tightened. He hoped this worked. They had talked in code many times before, but never in a situation where one of them was so far away. Typically, if something wasn’t clearly communicated, or understood, they could physically reach each other within half an hour. There was no thirty-minute window here, and Dick couldn’t risk Mac catching on.

“No, not at all, it’s fine. We’ve just finished up for the night. We are just about to go for dinner.” Bruce’s voice was light and airy, the same voice he used to entertain people. _I’m aware. I’m on my way._ The grip on Dick’s chest loosened, relief washing over him. Bruce knew. He’d handle this.

“Nice, where are you going? Must be someplace fancy if you’re going to wine and dine a potential business partner.” _How long? I need you here ASAP._ Dick tried to sound normal, but wondered how it was coming across. Was he showing too much relief that Bruce was on his way?

“We’re going to a place Lucius recommended, Five Tigers.” _Five hours._ Dick swallowed. Five hours? That seemed like a lifetime away. He guessed it was better than the full sixteen-hour flight back, but still more than he had hoped for. Dick didn’t know how Bruce knew of the situation – maybe the manor alarm, or lack thereof. To be five hours away he must have been alerted to the situation hours ago and left right away. He had to be in the air right now, as they were speaking.

“Huh, well you’ll have to let me know how it is. If it’s good, we’ll go back next time I’m there with you.” Dick tried to put some flirt in his voice to add to the facade. Mac waived the gun in front of Dick’s face in a “ _get on with it”_ motion. Dick cleared his throat again. _Here’s the bait._

“Hey listen, I’m trying to log into our banking information, and for some reason I can’t get in. I’ve tried resetting my password but it keeps asking me to call in, and customer service isn’t answering on a Sunday. Can I sign in using yours?”

Dick heard an exaggerated sigh, but he knew Bruce was just playing it up.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. You can’t even remember your login information?”

Dick tried to sound exasperated, “Well, it’s not like I go in there every day.”

Bruce was silent for a beat, causing Dick’s heart rate to increase.

“Don’t write this down.” Mentally sighing in relief, Dick typed the information into the site as Bruce provided it to him.

“I’m in, thanks.”

“And Dick? Phone tomorrow to get your information reset.” Dick marvelled at how good Bruce was at keeping up the show.

“Will do.”

“How’s Tim?” While Bruce’s tone was still light, Dick knew Bruce was asking for a status report on the family.

“Grouchy.”

Bruce chuckled, “and Alfred?”

“Same as always,” _So far so good._

“Well try to cheer Tim up before I get home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay, thanks Bruce.” Dick said softly, not wanting the call to end.

“Hey Dick? I love you.” Dick’s throat tightened with emotion at those words. He knew Bruce loved him, the older man just didn’t say it much. Like, at all, really. But Dick heard everything Bruce meant with those words – _I love you, it’s okay, I’ll be there, be strong, you’re doing great_. Dick truly wondered if Bruce knew the whole situation. He probably knew there was some sort of break-in, but he probably didn’t know the details. If he did, he may not think Dick was handling the situation so well. Dick’s voice was thick as he responded.

“Love you, too.” With that, Mac cut the connection, bringing Dick back from the safety and security of the call. While it was just a cognitive switch, it was still hard to focus back on the task in front of him, and let go of the strength of Bruce’s voice. He felt a weight settle on his chest that he hadn’t noticed before. He would have to protect the family on his own for a little while longer.

“Not too bad, Grayson.” Mac said, placing the receiver back on the base and moving the phone away. “Now,” Mac continued, dropping a piece of paper beside the laptop in front of Dick, “transfer the money into that account.”

Dick blinked a couple times; his vision was still blurry from the blows he received earlier. If he squinted, his focus corrected enough to read the numbers. Pulling the piece of paper closer, Dick started about transferring the money. He kept an eye on Mac, though, as the man made his way over to Tim, who had remained kneeling by the couch through the whole call with Bruce.

When Mac pulled Tim to his feet, Dick tensed, telling himself that Mac wouldn’t hurt the teen – not yet. Mac said he needed Tim. Dick felt only slightly guilty as he watched one of Bruce’s accounts drain by $150 mil. He knew it would only be a minor dent to the fortune, but he didn’t feel like it was his to give. Regardless, he knew Bruce would agree that the money meant nothing in comparison to the safety of their small little family.

“Done.” Dick called, signing out of their accounts.

Mac nodded over to the soldier standing just off to the side of the desk.

“Check it,” he instructed the soldier, pushing Tim towards the desk. The soldier pulled the laptop away from Dick, going through the motions of logging into their own account to verify the transfer was complete. His eyebrows shot up as he took in the screen.

“We got it,” he sounded surprised.

Mac nodded. There was no surprise on his features whatsoever.

“Get up,” Mac growled as he and Tim approached the desk, motioning for Dick to get out of the chair. He shoved Tim down into it forcefully once Dick had moved. “Now, you’re going to log in to Wayne Tech’s systems, and download this list of files.” Mac said, placing a new sheet of paper down beside the laptop. Dick couldn’t see the details of the list, but it was massive.

Tim picked up the sheet, reviewing it closely before setting it back down on the desk.

“I don’t have access to Wayne Tech’s systems. Even if I did, I wouldn’t have a clue where to start looking. It could take hours to figure it out.”

“Then I suggest you get going. You have until 09:00.”

Tim sputtered, looking to Dick, “That’s practically impossible.” He sounded almost ashamed, as if he was disappointing Dick or something. Dick only wished Tim knew how proud he was of him, and how the teen was handling the whole situation.

“Then hack it. I hear you’re a little computer genius.” Mac said.

“I don’t even know if you have the right software on this thing for me to get in. Even if you do, it’s going to take me some time to hack my way in. There is no way I can get it done in two and a half hours.”

“All the software you’ll need is on there. You have until 09:00.” Mac said patiently, as if talking to a toddler. “And just to give you a little incentive, if you don’t have every single file on that list by 09:00, your family will pay the price for every 15 minute interval you’re late.”

Tim shifted in the chair, a sign of stress Dick easily recognized.

“Hey, he’s just a kid. That’s a lot pressure to put on him.” Dick said, wanting to reason with the man. Dick knew Tim would feel guilty if anything happened to him or Alfred after 9am. Dick knew anything that happened to them wouldn’t be Tim’s fault, but he wondered if the teen would see it that way.

“He’s a brilliant kid. He’ll figure it out.” Mac said, reaching out to pat Tim’s head. Tim tried to duck it as Dick’s arm shot out, grabbing Mac’s wrist to stop its descent.

“Don’t touch him,” Dick growled out, straightening his stance.

“No? You rather me touch you instead?” Mac asked, amusement colouring his tone. Skilfully, he turned, grabbing Dick’s arm and twisting it behind his back. Dick didn’t fight as Mac put the cuffs back on him, but winced as they bit into his already raw wrists. Once the cuffs were secure, Mac pressed his body as flush as he could to Dick’s back, leaning down to nip and whisper into the younger man’s ear. “That can be arranged,” he said as one of his hands wound their way to the front of Dick’s pajama pants, cupping Dick’s package.

Tim cleared his throat, interrupting the little moment. Mac shot the teen a scathing glance, pulling Dick back and away from the desk.

“You don’t have much time; I’d start working if I were you.” Mac sneered at the teen, steering Dick over towards the sitting area that Alfred and Murphy were still inhabiting. “Bobby, keep an eye on him. If he starts doing anything remotely sketchy, let me know.”

The soldier beside the desk nodded, moving to hunch over Tim’s shoulder.

Mac sat down in a chair adjacent to the couch Alfred was on, getting comfortable before propping his right arm on the armrest, gun trained on Alfred. He patted his lap, motioning Dick to climb onto him. Dick swallowed thickly. So, they were back to this.

Not making eye contact with Alfred or Mac, Dick slowly moved forward, lingering for a moment in front of the larger man, trying to decide how best to do this. Mac hooked his finger into the waistband of Dick’s pajama bottoms, slowly urging him forward until Dick had no choice but to carefully climb onto Mac’s lap, straddling his wide thighs. Mac grabbed Dick’s hip with his free hand, helping stabilize the younger man while guiding him to settle so that their groins were touching. The whole time, Dick kept his gaze on the bookcase on the wall behind the chair.

“Look at me,” Mac commanded, pulling Dick’s chin towards him. Dick reluctantly complied, trying to keep his features neutral. The amused look on Mac’s face slowly melted to a hunger Dick felt sick witnessing. “C’mere,” Mac whispered, pulling Dick’s chin forward until their lips were touching.

Dick kept still as Mac gently covered his mouth with his own. Dick didn’t want to test the man by pulling away, but he didn’t engage in the act either. After a minute or so of attempting to lure Dick into intimacy, Mac let out a breath of frustration.

“Let’s try this differently,” he stated. “I may have been a little harsh at first – maybe scared you a little. But I want you to enjoy yourself too.” Mac said, brushing a strand of hair from Dick’s eyes. Dick started pulling back from the gesture, finding it too familiar, but stopped when he saw Mac’s look turn steely. When he let Mac continue, the older man’s features softened again. “I want you to get hard for me,” Mac said, his voice soft. “Kiss me, and enjoy it. Get hard, baby,” Mac continued, pulling Dick’s chin back towards him.

Dick pulled his head back, away from Mac’s touch.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Dick said, enraged at what the man was asking.

“No?” Mac asked, modifying his grip on the gun. It was a warning that didn’t need words. “I’m sure I can make you have a change of heart.”

Dick huffed, he could feel anger creeping up his chest. Why couldn’t this have happened to Nightwing? At least then he could have attempted to fight his way out of it. As Dick Grayson, he had to play to a feebler persona.

“I’ll be patient,” Mac soothed, again pulling Dick’s chin back towards him.

Dick’s anger bled into fear and frustration. He practically started panting, trying to control this rollercoaster of emotion. It was one thing to be used as he had been earlier, but it was a completely different mind game to actively participate in your own rape.

“I can’t,” Dick whispered as their lips were just about to touch, halting their progress.

“You can,” Mac urged, “C’mon, baby. Don’t make me get nasty.” He leaned forward, capturing Dick’s mouth again. Mac slowed his ministrations, clearly expecting Dick to pick up where he left off. It took Dick a few seconds to mentally weigh his options again before he relented, and slowly pressed his lips back against Mac’s.

“Mmmmm, good boy,” Mac murmured, gradually leaning back, forcing Dick to lean forward to keep contact. Dick felt sick as he worked his mouth over the older man’s, hesitating when Mac opened his mouth and ran his tongue over Dick’s lower lip, playing with the cut he had imposed earlier.

Dick had to mentally force his mouth to open, fighting the urge to bite the tongue that entered. He tried to seemingly participate as Mac continued to lazily possess his mouth, not wanting to give the man blatant reason to use his gun.

As the minutes rolled on, Dick allowed his mind to wander to potential scenarios of how to get everyone out safely. If Tim was supposed to be done by 9, and Bruce wouldn’t be here until at least 11, there were a couple hours where Dick would have to defuse the situation.

Feeling a hand grab his ass, Dick jumped slightly, letting out a startled whimper. He winced as he realized Mac had started kneading and massaging his butt in a way that had his hips rocking against Mac’s body. Dick’s eyes slammed shut as he felt a stirring in his groin. While he had been thinking about how to get them out of here, he hadn’t been concentrating on controlling his body. Humiliation coloured his cheeks. He couldn’t believe he was actually reacting to this.

Mac chuckled into the kiss, taking Dick’s mouth boldly as he rocked his hips up against the smaller man’s. Dick’s attempts to still them were futile.

Dick tore away, his eyes still screwed shut as he tried to gain control over his body. He wasn’t going to play into this sick bastard’s hand.

Mac wasn’t deterred though, he continued to place kisses along Dick’s jawline and up to his ear, sucking on the lobe gently before nipping at it. No matter what angle Dick turned his head, trying to get away from the older man’s advances, Mac just kissed the area presented to him. Mac started sucking rather strongly on a pulse-point on Dick’s neck as he brought his hand around to start slowly rubbing Dick’s hardening penis, encouraging the younger man’s arousal. Dick shook his head, panting slightly while trying to will his growing erection away.

Dick’s concentration was interrupted when Mac asked him a question.

“What?” Dick asked, missing what the older man had said.

“What’s Five Tigers?”

Dick couldn’t help the momentary stiffening of his body. _What? How could he know?_ He flinched when he knew Mac noticed his reaction.

“A restaurant,” Dick supplied, still breathing heavily to control his body’s response to Mac’s ministrations. At the sound of Mac’s gun going off, Dick froze.

_No. Alfred!_

Turning in Mac’s lap, Dick’s couldn’t breathe from the panic gripping his chest.

It took a minute for Dick’s mind to process what it was seeing. Alfred still looked completely okay, sitting stoically, eyes facing forward, no sign of pain on his features. Dick’s eyes darted around the butler’s body, searching for blood or an entry wound. When his eyes fell to a bullet hole in the couch just inches from Alfred’s shoulder, the vise on Dick’s chest released. Mac had missed.

“Want to try that one again?” Mac’s voice was threateningly low. He had missed on purpose to get Dick’s attention. “I’m not an idiot, sweetheart. What does Five Tigers mean?”


	4. Unexpected Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see Chapter 1 for original notes.
> 
> I apologize for the delay. This update is coming from my vacation in Hawaii! Aloha! I hope it's not too choppy, as I've been writing it in blocks as I've had time. So, sorry in advance. The next update probably won't happen until I'm back home in a week and a bit. But then there will be more to come, I promise!

That had been way too close. Looking back at Mac, the man he was still straddling, Dick struggled to suppress the dread that swirled in his stomach. Dick felt like he was losing what little control he had left over the situation. There was a sudden realization that he may not always be able to keep Tim and Alfred safe by leveraging his compliance with Mac. The man was a loose cannon. Add that on top of him figuring out Dick had been speaking in code to Bruce, and he was an intelligent loose cannon. Dick felt like he kept underestimating the situation, and Mac’s ability. Everything just kept escalating too quickly.

Mac raised a brow, a silent statement that he was still waiting for Dick’s answer.

Dick had to think, and fast. He couldn’t tell him the truth, could he? What would be the repercussions if he did, or didn’t? He swallowed his panic when nothing came to him. Now was not the time for his brain to feel foggy from a concussion!

With a sigh of impatience, Mac gave a signal to Murphy.

Hearing Murphy move behind him, Dick turned to watch as the soldier stepped up to Alfred.

“No!” Dick shouted, mind reeling as he watched the soldier deliver a heavy blow to the side of Alfred’s head. Dick bit back a shout of anger as Alfred’s head snapped violently to the side. Dick had to stop this.

“He knows!” Dick shouted as Murphy raised his hand to deliver another blow. Mac signaled for Murphy to stop, which he did, taking a step back.

Ignoring the limitations of his hands still cuffed behind his back, Dick lithely jumped backwards off Mac’s lap. He did it as quickly as he could so Mac couldn’t stop him, but Dick had a feeling the older man let him go.

Throwing himself at Alfred’s feet, he looked up at his long-time friend. He ground his teeth in frustration when he couldn’t reach out to the butler like he wanted to in order to survey the damage.

“Alfred, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Dick asked quietly. His voice sounded foreign to him as he tried to speak past the tightness of guilt lumping in his chest. While the words were spilling out, Dick wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for the earlier shot scare, the avoidable blow that had just been delivered, or both.

The butler, however, had righted himself, offering a gentle smile to Dick.

“I’m quite alright, Master Dick. I’m afraid it will take more than that to inflict any harm.” Alfred responded, sounding quite brazen as he leveled a glare at first Murphy, then Mac. Dick had been on the receiving end of those glares many times, and was grateful it wasn’t being directed at him. Dick smiled up at Alfred, relieved that the old man was feeling well enough that his spirit wasn’t subdued.

“We could test your limits, if you prefer, old man.” Mac said, rising out of the chair. Dick gracefully rose to his feet at the same time, placing himself between the two soldiers and what was the closest thing to a parent Dick currently had.

“Leave him out of this,” Dick growled, eyes trained on Mac as he kept peripheral awareness of Murphy. Mac just chucked, casually stepping up to Dick. He clearly didn’t see Dick as a threat by any means.

“Or what, sweetheart?” Mac smiled, looking down at the smaller man. Dick set his jaw, but didn’t respond. “That’s what I thought.” Dick rocked back on his heels to stop himself from lunging forward. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smirk off his assailant’s face.

The cry of a far siren pulled Mac’s attention away from the situation. As the cry got louder – closer – they were able to identify there were many sirens. Mac made his way over to one of the windows, looking out to the entrance of the Manor. He growled as several police cars made their way onto the property and pulled up to the front of the house.

Dick glanced over to Tim, who was still working away on the computer, outwardly oblivious to what was going on this side of the laptop. After a second, however, his eyes met Dick’s. The teen answered Dick’s silent question with the barest shake of his head. Tim hadn’t been the one to notify the cops.

That left either the security system in some way, or Bruce. Dick was willing to put money on the latter. They had appearances to uphold, after all.

Mac stormed back over to Dick, grabbing him again by his hair before shoving him down onto the floor. Dick ended up on his knees about a body’s length away from Alfred, facing the butler. Before Dick could process what was happening, Mac was back beside Alfred, the barrel of his gun now pressing into the butler’s temple. Dick swallowed, feeling all the blood drain from his face.

_No._

“No,” Dick pleaded, inching forward on this knees. Before he even made it two steps, he felt a heavy hand fall on his shoulder, pulling him back. Dick didn’t have to look up to know it was Murphy.

“I may not have caught on to your little code at first, but it didn’t take long.” Mac said. “I told you what was going to happen if you jeopardized this mission, Grayson.”

Dick shook his head, “Please. I didn’t.”

Mac growled low, baring his teeth.

“I’m only going to ask this once. So choose your words wisely.” Mac bit out, pushing his gun harder against Alfred’s temple.

Dick nodded in compliancy.

“What, exactly, does Wayne know?”

Dick swallowed, knowing he had to tread carefully.

“He knows there’s been a break in,” Dick started, speaking slowly and softly.

“How?!” Mac shouted, interrupting Dick’s explanation. The muscles flexing in his right arm drew Dick’s attention. “What the fuck did you tell him?!” Dick tried not to flinch, knowing he had to remain calm if he wanted to keep the situation calm. At least, calm enough so no one got shot.

“Nothing, he knew before I even called.” Dick supplied genuinely.

“Bullshit!” Mac spat.

“I swear,” Dick quickly replied. He bit back the urge to shout at his assailant, scared Mac would pull the trigger in his rage. “I didn’t tell him anything. He already knew. That’s what Five Tigers means – that he’s aware.” Dick hoped that his minor fib wouldn’t come back to hurt any of them.

Mac weighed Dick’s words.

“How did he know? What did you say to him?”

“I didn’t say anything. I don’t know how he knows, maybe something with the alarm system notified him. There are a few trips on it, so maybe from one of those.” Dick supplied, not sure what angle would smooth out the situation. Mac scrutinized Dick, watching for any tell that Dick was lying or leading him on. When he saw none, he shouted over his shoulder.

“Derek!”

“Yes, sir!” A soldier responded back, coming to stand behind Alfred on the couch.

“You said you could get past Wayne’s system – that we could get in undetected.” Mac stated quietly, yet accusation was clear in his voice.

“Yes, sir. We did, sir.” Derek responded, sounding sure and confident.

Dick held steadfast, giving Mac no sign to doubt any of what he had said earlier about triggers on the system. A silence fell over the room as Mac analyzed the situation, the only sound coming from Tim’s clipped typing.

“Well, it looks like something’s off here, doesn’t it?” Mac finally questioned, eyes not leaving Dick. “Who to believe …”

As a look of resolve washed over the older man’s face, Dick swallowed thickly, allowing his unwavering expression to bleed into one of desperation. _Please, no._

In his peripheral vision, Dick saw Tim jump in his chair at the sound of the gun going off. A look of terror washed over the teen’s face as he glanced up from the screen.

As Mac lowered his weapon, Dick lowered his head, letting his chin rest on his chest while trying to supress his emotions. He had failed. They weren’t going to get out of here without casualties.

When Dick looked up again, he met Alfred’s eyes. The butler had a look of comforting support and modest pride on his face, a look Dick knew was directed at him. But Dick didn’t feel worthy of such praise at that moment. He had gotten a man shot. He may have saved one of his own family members from being on the receiving end of that bullet, but Derek now lay dead behind the couch due to what Dick had said. Mac had believed Dick – chosen Dick’s word over one of his own men’s – costing Derek his life.

Before he could properly process the emotion of causing a casualty, the chime of the main entry’s bell had Dick tensing. He wasn’t ready for the police – another variable – to be introduced into this scenario. He already had enough to worry about.

Mac sighed, reaching up and rubbing his forehead. It was the first sign of stress the older man had shown all morning.

“Take the butler, have him answer the door. If they want to negotiate, they can phone in. We’ll answer. Nothing else.” Mac commanded, pulling Alfred up off the couch.

Murphy moved to follow orders, escorting Alfred out of the room at gun-point.

Mac sat on the couch where Alfred had been sitting, leaning forward so he was resting his elbows on his spread knees, his gun hanging loosely in his hand. While his posture was relaxed, his eyes were on fire.

“If I ever get the slightest feeling that I just shot the wrong person, I won’t hesitate to correct the situation.” Mac stated calmly. “Understood?”

Dick nodded once, “Understood.”

“Good,” Mac said, leaning back so his back was now resting on the couch. “C’mere,” he said softly, waving with his gun for Dick to come closer. Still on his knees, Dick crept forward. When he approached the larger man, Mac spread his legs wider apart, invitation clear. Dick stopped just in front of Mac’s feet though, causing a sigh to fall from his assailant.

“Still insolent, even after all that’s happened, huh?” Mac asked, gripping the back of Dick’s neck to pull him forward, causing the younger man to stumble into the space between Mac’s legs. “You need to realize you’re mine now. This is your life now.” Mac said, brushing the back of his hand down Dick’s cheek, just as Bruce had done the day he left.

Dick pulled away from the touch, his eyes and his throat burning with emotion. He hated that this man touched him so intimately, in ways that only Bruce had before. A hard grip on Dick’s chin brought his focus back to Mac.

“Bruce isn’t getting you back,” Mac whispered. Dick’s eyes blazed with defiance, but he remained silent. He resented the claim Mac was trying to make on him. He was Bruce’s, and Bruce was his. Nothing anyone said, or did, made that just go away.

As Mac started undoing his pants, Dick bit back a whimper, along with what felt like a million emotions that suddenly washed over him. Sex, again – Mac’s fall back. Dick sat back on his heels slightly, biting his lower lip in an effort not to let his emotions show on his face. He was fighting back tears – tears of pain, humiliation, fear, frustration, and anger. He was desperate not to show this man how he was affecting him.

“Use your mouth to get me hard, baby,” Mac said once he had pulled his soft cock out of his pants.

Dick’s brow creased as he closed his eyes in disgust, ashamed as a tear escaped and ran down his cheek. Showing such emotion made Dick angry. It made him feel weak. Mac made him feel weak.

“So pretty,” Mac whispered, pulling Dick forward by the back of the neck again and guiding him towards his penis. Dick whimpered, trying to pull back. He knew with Alfred being out of the room, and Tim still hacking into Wayne Tech, now was his best time to fight this.

“Shhhhh,” Mac soothed, pulling more firmly until Dick’s face was practically buried in Mac’s groin. When Mac let go of Dick to hold his own penis up for offering to the younger man, Dick leapt back, almost stumbling as he fought to get to his feet in one move.

Mac growled, doing up his pants before getting up to follow suit. Just as the larger man started to rise, Dick lowered his stance, swiftly kicking out at Mac’s left knee. He made a solid connection, causing Mac to stumble slightly before he was able to catch himself. Dick had been hoping to blow out the knee altogether, but Mac was solid.

One of the other soldiers stepped forward to help with the matter, but Mac waived him off, holstering his gun.

“I got him,” he growled, lowering into a combative stance as well. “I love it when he fights.”

Dick backed up a little further, giving himself ample room to try and read any of Mac’s moves before he made them. He waited for the larger man to move first, evading as he lunged, but only escaping marginally. Dick allowed his momentum to turn him, following through with a high, powerful kick to Mac’s head.

While the older man did pause, he only did so for a second before he growled, lunging again. This time he didn’t miss.

Dick yelped as he landed on his cuffed hands, hard, Mac’s weight on top of him making it even worse. A shooting pain immediately ran from one of his wrists to his elbow. Before Dick could take in a breath, Mac unleashed a number of blows to his head and face. Dick tried to roll with the hits, but it wasn’t doing much to soften them.

Finally, Mac let up, leaning over Dick’s now still form, a hand bracing himself on either side of the younger man’s head.

“There’s no need for this.” Mac said, sounding rather calm. “You’re only hurting yourself, sweetheart. I’ll win every time.” Dick tried to let out a sarcastic laugh, but it came out rather weak, sounding more like a huff. Dick didn’t think Mac would be so confident fighting Nightwing.

Dick took a quick inventory of his injuries. He suspected his right arm was broken from how it was aching, there were stars in his vision again, his left cheek stung like it was cut, and his split lip had opened again. Dick groaned. Well, at least he’d gotten out of sucking that sick bastard off again.

As Mac got up and off the younger man, he hoisted him up by his right bicep, causing a cry to fall from Dick’s lips. That arm did not like to be jostled now. Dick was shoved onto the couch, and was surprised to see Alfred seated back where he had originally been sitting. He hadn’t even noticed them come back in during all the commotion.

“Sit Rep!” Mac commanded. Murphy jumped to respond.

“Commissioner Gordon was at the door. He tried to ask the basic questions: how many hostages we had, what our demands were, etc. The old man here did well. Told him to call the mansion if the police would like to speak to the man in charge. Gordon said they would be calling shortly.” Murphy supplied, following Mac as they made their way over to the desk Tim was working away at.

“Good heavens, Master Dick,” Alfred whispered, turning to address Dick who was struggling to stay awake and focus his vision. “What was that all about? You look lucky to be conscious right now.”

Dick tried to anchor himself to Alfred’s calm voice.

“Don’t worry about it, Alfred.” Dick assured, grimacing in pain as he tried to sit up straighter on the couch. “I’m all right.”

“You most certainly are not, young man.” Alfred insisted, reaching out to steady Dick as he started to list to one side.

“Get your hands off him, old man!” Mac shouted from the desk, pointing his finger at the pair. “He’s mine.”

Alfred huffed, but complied when Dick nodded his head in ascent. Dick regretted the move immediately.

“He requires medical attention at once.” Alfred piped up, looking back over at Mac.

“He’ll be fine,” Mac insisted, looking back down at the computer screen while leaning on the desk. “I know how to administer physical violence. It’s nothing he won’t recover from.” With that, they were dismissed. “How far are you, junior?” Mac asked Tim.

“I’m not even in yet.” Tim said, a touch of venom in this voice.

Mac slammed his fist onto the desk, getting everyone’s attention.

“That’s not good enough, kid!” Mac seethed.

“Well you try hacking into one of the top technology companies in the world. Their portfolio includes cyber security, you know. You can bet they’re using superior, advanced firewall technology that the top hackers in the industry aren’t even aware of yet.” Tim sounded downright pissy. It was probably a little hard for him to admit he hadn’t cracked it yet. The tight timeline probably wasn’t helping his mood either.

Before Mac could respond, the desk phone started ringing. Standing back up, Mac grabbed the receiver on the second ring, glaring hard at Tim in dissatisfaction.

“Yeah,” Mac barked.

After a moment of silence, he continued.

“Look, I’m calling the shots here. I want everyone out behind the gate. If I so much as smell one cop on this property, people are going to start dying. You have five minutes to back everyone out.” With that, he slammed the phone back down, training his focus back on Tim.

“You got just over 30 minutes to get all those files, kid.” Mac said, leaning over the teen menacingly. “Tick tock.”


	5. Motivation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see Chapter 1 for original notes.
> 
> Sorry for the delay, everyone! I'm back from vacation, but must have left my muse in Hawaii. That and RL really caught up to me. Nevertheless, after fighting with this chapter for over a week, I'm finally posting it. Still not 100% happy with it, but at this point I don't think it's going to get much better. Enjoy!

Dick spent the better part of the next half hour watching Mac as he held vigil over a window with a clear view of the entrance to Wayne Manor. The police had complied and moved out behind the gate. Since then, there had been another minor conversation with the police, but Mac had told them to stand down and stay off the property. Dick wasn’t sure how long that was going to last. The phone had wrung twice more since the last time Mac hung up, but he hadn’t answered either of those calls.

While keeping the occasional visual contact with Tim over the same time span, Dick knew the teen wasn’t going to meet Mac’s imposed 9am deadline. The teen had been giving Dick subtle negative indications anytime Dick looked at him. That meant that Dick had to figure out a way to keep Mac’s attention on him and away from Alfred when Mac started implementing _motivation_ techniques to get Tim to work faster.

A couple times during Mac’s silent watch, Dick had thought he should try to talk Mac down using his own form of soft negotiation. Every time he went to open his mouth, though, he found himself freezing, the words not willing to form in his throat. He wanted to blame the hesitation on his injuries – the concussion – but deep inside he knew it was because he didn’t want to draw Mac’s attention back to himself, back to any of them, sooner than necessary.

That silent admission of inner weakness, however small, left Dick unsettled. He always took pride in his resolve, and the strengths he could bring to the family. This morning with Mac, however, he felt none of that strength. He felt like a failure. He had failed in avoiding multiple counts of sexual assault, failed in protecting the family, failed in finding a way to avoid transferring millions of dollars of Bruce’s money, failed in hiding his veiled discussion with Bruce, and failed in resolving the overall situation. He had failed in every way it counted. What was his family going to think of him when all of this was over? What was _Bruce_ going to think?

When it was just shy of 9am, Mac ordered Murphy to place a coffee table a yard or so in front of Bruce’s desk. The command had Dick, Alfred, and Tim sharing confused and wary glances, unsure of where Mac was going with this. He clearly was going to use it for something.

“How’s it going over there, junior?” Mac asked as he approached the desk where Tim was working away diligently. “Are you going to make your deadline?”

Tim shook his head once, brow furrowed in concentration.

“I’m in. I just need a little more time to retrieve the files.” Tim said without looking up from the laptop. His typing never faltered.

Mac placed both hands on the end of the desk, leaning on it as he made a tsking sound.

“Do you remember what I said would happen at 09:00 if you weren’t done?” Mac queried, looking back over to Dick and Alfred who were sitting on the couch, watching the exchange. Dick moved to sit on the edge of his seat, ready to intervene if necessary.

“I’m almost done,” Tim replied, refusing to make eye contact with Mac. “Give me another 30 minutes and I’ll have all your files.” Dick was proud of how resilient Tim sounded.

“You have no room to negotiate, kid. I gave you two and a half hours. Time’s up.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Tim countered, raising his eyes from the computer. He had a calm look on his face, one that was purely professional, no emotion clouding his tone or features. Dick smirked; Tim would do Wayne Enterprises a lot better with those skills than Dick ever could. Dick was too emotional to put on the business face that both Bruce and Tim wore so well.

Mac studied the teen for a moment before a look of amusement slowly spread across his face.

“What? You think I’m Wayne?” Mac laughed. “You can’t negotiate your way out of this,” he said, standing back up and making his way over to the couch. Tim wanted to call Mac back, but held his tongue when he saw Dick shake his head. Dick was right; Tim needed to finish this off, and quickly if Mac was unwilling to move on his deadline.

“So, who is up first?” Mac asked, rubbing his hands together. “Want to try another round, old man?”

“No,” Dick interjected, standing up. He fought the wave of dizziness that washed over him, trying to hide any outward sign of impairment. “Do whatever you want to me, but leave him alone.”

“Nonsense, Master Dick,” Alfred began, but Dick cut him off.

“Alfred, please.” Dick said, trying to pin his best _“I couldn’t live with myself if they hurt you”_ look on the older man. When Alfred looked like he was going to rebut Dick’s attempt at self-sacrifice, Dick quickly turned back to Mac. “I’ll take every 15 minute interval. If you want to hurt Bruce, I’m your key.”

“We have our own little martyr here, do we?” Mac asked, stepping up to Dick before running his hand through the younger man’s thick, dark hair. “How endearing,” he said before gripping a fist full of the soft locks and dragging Dick over towards the coffee table situated in front of the desk.

Tim only glanced up from the laptop once as they approached, a look of concern flashing across his features before he focused back on the computer. Dick could see pressure lining itself on the teen’s features.

Coming to a halt at one end of the coffee table, Mac pulled Dick closely to him, wrapping his arms around Dick’s waist. The movement bumped Dick’s injured arm, making him wince slightly.

“Easy, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.” Mac murmured, leaning down to trace his lips along Dick’s jawline.

Dick let a sarcastic huff escape.

“A little late for that, don’t you think?” he asked, jerking his head away from Mac’s mouth.

Mac growled, pulling Dick’s chin back to him as he looked down at the smaller man.

“I told you upstairs, I don’t want to hurt you more than necessary.” Mac said slowly. “You’ve given me plenty of reasons to so far. Don’t give me any more.” Mac looked at him earnestly, but held a tone of cool control. His wavering sense of concern made Dick scowl.

“Then don’t make me give you any more reasons,” Dick replied, his voice coming out softer than he intended. He held Mac’s gaze as the older man studied him, not challenging the man, but not wilting under the heavy gaze either. Mac let his knuckles travel from Dick’s chin up to his cheek, brushing softly over the bruised flesh.

“Kiss me,” the older man whispered, leaning down to gently capture Dick’s lips. Dick only hesitated for a second before weakly kissing back. He had learned his lesson. If he didn’t play the game Mac wanted, the larger man would start training his attention on Tim or Alfred to help persuade Dick to concede.

When Mac opened his mouth and ran his tongue across Dick’s lips, Dick complied, allowing the older man access. Mac moaned, leaning further into the kiss while pulling Dick even closer, pillaging Dick’s mouth obscenely. Dick let out a sound of complaint as the kiss escalated from gentle to aggressive, Mac sucking hard on his tongue.

While Mac was still attacking Dick’s mouth, his hands roamed down and started kneading and massaging Dick’s bottom without finesse. Dick stiffened, but still didn’t try to deter the larger man from his advances. When Mac grabbed both ass cheeks and hefted Dick up, Dick yelped into the kiss, delicately trying to balance himself in the man’s large hands.  

“Wrap your legs around me, baby. I’ve got you.” Mac murmured before sealing his mouth over Dick’s once again. Dick closed his eyes and whimpered, opening his legs marginally to help stabilize his weight. He could feel the outline of Mac’s hard penis pressing against him as the larger man tried to rub their groins together. Dick swallowed thickly, turning his head away from Mac’s mouth as it tried to continue its assault.

“You going to get hard for me this time, sweetheart?” Mac whispered into Dick’s ear before nipping and licking at it. Dick jerked his head to one side in denial. The move was purely reactive and not intended, but Mac wasn’t impressed. The larger man growled before setting Dick down, not caring if he was firm on his feet.

Then, without warning, he hooked his fingers inside both Dick’s pajama pants and boxer briefs and pulled them down to his ankles.

“Hey!” Dick gasped in objection, his face instantly burning with humiliation at having everything hanging out in front of everyone. Not only that, but Dick would be _mortified_ if Tim or Alfred saw any evidence of the session he and Mac had earlier upstairs.

“Step out of them,” Mac commanded sternly, standing back up once Dick had complied. In one deft move, Mac spun Dick around so he was now facing the coffee table, just inches in front of it. “Kneel on the edge of the table.” Dick’s stomach started tying itself in knots, fearing where this was going.

After only a moment’s hesitation though, Mac took any choice away by placing his big hands on Dick’s shoulders and moving him forward. Mac helped steady him as he knelt onto the cold mahogany wood before shoving Dick’s shoulders forward, causing Dick to fall face first onto the table. Dick groaned as his already bruised head slammed against the hard surface. He had tried to engage his core to save himself, but that just ended with his butt up in the air as his upper body weight had been caught using his shoulders and cheek. He had turned his face just in time to avoid smashing his nose.

When Dick opened his eyes again, he could see Tim shooting him panicked glances over the top of the monitor, but Dick shook his head slightly. Tim needed to keep doing what he was doing, and if Dick had any say, not pay any attention to what Mac was going to do to him on the coffee table.

“Got those files yet, junior? Next 15-minute interval starts in five. If you don’t have the files by then, big brother here is going to have the pleasure of my cock up his ass.”

Tim kept his head down, not replying, clenching his jaw as he fought the urge to jump up from the chair to help Dick.

Dick couldn’t help the cry that fell from his lips when Mac’s hand suddenly fell hard on his ass, delivering a solid smack. However, as Mac delivered the next, then the next, Dick bit his lip, unwilling to give his assailant the satisfaction of hearing his pain. Mac administered varying blows to each of Dick’s cheeks and upper thighs. Just when Dick thought he was going to scream from the onslaught, the blows stopped. A heated burn washed over his abused flesh, matching the burning on his face from anger and humiliation. He had been through a lot of things through the years, but he had never felt as degraded as he did right now.

When a finger slipped in between Dick’s heated cheeks, though, he wasn’t able to hold back a whimper, closing his eyes against the assault.

“Mmmmm,” Mac groaned, rubbing his middle finger roughly over Dick’s swollen pucker, “still lubed from my cum from earlier, huh baby?” Mac said, rubbing more forcefully before pushing it in past the tight ring of muscle.

Dick groaned, pushing his cheek harder against the table, desperately wanting to hide. He didn’t want to see Tim, or Alfred, when Mac’s words formed meaning in their minds. _My cum from earlier …_ They would know.

“Time’s up, kid. Bobby, does he have the files?” Mac asked from above Dick.

“Not all of them, sir.” Bobby responded.

“Mmmm, lucky for me, then.” Mac responded. Dick couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran up his spine at the sound of Mac undoing his pants, the hiss of zipper teeth causing the command _move_ to echo in his mind. Dick tried to leverage his shoulders up off the table, but Mac had been ready for him, a solid hand already pushing down between his shoulder blades.

“No!” Tim shouted, and Dick watched in misery as the teen tried to come to his rescue. He felt sickeningly helpless. Bobby, however, pushed Tim back into the chair as soon as the teen stood up. Dick saw a flash of anger and momentary resolve pass over Tim’s face. Dick knew that look. Tim was going to do something, something that might give them away.

“Tim!” Dick called, his harsh tone getting through to the teen. Tim looked to him, anguish pooling in his eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

Tim shook his head, slapping Bobby’s hands away from him. The soldier didn’t try get another hold, though. Dick could see the moment Tim came to the realization he couldn’t do anything about this as himself, Tim Drake. He could also see the emotional burden it put on the younger man when he realized there was nothing he could do.

“I’ll be fine.” Dick repeated, softly, as if trying to sooth a startled animal. “Get back to work.” He desperately wanted to add _and don’t pay attention,_ but somehow it didn’t seem right.

Dick was pulled back to Mac’s ministrations when he felt the head of Mac’s cock slide up and down his cleft, gathering moisture from earlier. Dick only had a second to steel his mind, close his eyes, and take a calming breath before he felt Mac push the swollen head of his penis past Dick’s outer ring of muscle.

Dick couldn’t hold back a grunt from the bite of intrusion before he ground his teeth together to silence himself. Sure, Mac’s ejaculate from the first rape was acting as lubricant, but there was still a painful, stinging burn as Mac took him again. Dick knew he had definitely been torn the first time. This round just felt like rubbing salt into an open wound.

Thoughts of managing the pain wandered through Dick’s mind as Mac thrust true and deep. He wanted to let his mind close in, to protect himself by focusing within himself, but with every push and pull, every breath, he was drawn back to Mac. Dick fought back the gasps and moans of pain, not wanting to draw Tim’s attention, or make him feel any worse by hearing the toll this was taking on Dick.

He couldn’t, however, stop from wincing every time Mac bottomed out. Each time, Dick could feel the coolness of Mac’s hips and thighs as they brushed against his fevered, abused bottom. The larger man’s hands maintained a painful grip on Dick’s hips, which were already forming bruises from their first go.

“Done. I have your files, now let him go.” Tim stated, only causing a minor hiccup in Mac’s tempo.

“Good work, kid. Bobby, double check everything, then transfer the files and pack-up.” Mac commanded, never faltering a thrust. “We’re running late.”

Mac picked up the rhythm, thrusting so violently Dick was getting a burn on his knees, shoulders and cheek from the coffee table. The force of momentum was rubbing any piece of skin raw from the varnish.

“I did what you wanted. Let him go!” Tim stated, his voice level rising. Dick kept his eyes closed, certain Tim was now looking at them. As much as he loved his family, he couldn’t face them head on while being raped. He didn’t want to see the emotion in their eyes. The anguish, the pity.

“Relax, kid, let me finish.” Mac said flippantly.

“Why you son-of-a-” Tim started. Dick could hear the chair being shoved back, and then the sounds of what he’d been trying to prevent this whole morning – a struggle with Tim. Dick’s eyes flew open, fearful that he’d see a gun trained on his little brother. Luckily, Bobby hadn’t pulled his gun out, yet at least, and was trying to subdue the teen. But it wasn’t working, Tim was holding his own. A typical teen wouldn’t be able to hold their own against ex-military personnel.

“Tim!” Dick tried to shout out to the teen to get his attention, to get him to get back into the right frame of mind before it was too late, but the word only left his lips as a whisper. Desperately, Dick wet his lips, clearing his throat as he tried again. “Tim!”

The teen looked to Dick, halting just long enough for Bobby to get the upper hand and tumble Tim to the floor. Dick closed his eyes as they disappeared from view behind the desk, hoping Tim would realize why Dick was yelling at him. Dick knew he just wanted to help, he wanted to do the right thing, but in this circumstance they had limitations.

A groan from Mac had Dick opening his eyes again, hopeful that the older man was finished. With a smack to Dick’s ass, Mac pulled out, pulling a whimper from Dick as well.

“You still sounds so pretty, baby. Now stay there, don’t move.” Mac said, doing up his pants. Dick felt horribly exposed, now sitting by himself, ass still up in the air with cum running down to his balls. He bit his lip as he closed his eyes again, praying Mac was getting Dick’s boxers and pajamas ready to put back on. The sound of a picture being taken had Dick’s heart stopping in his chest. His eyes flew open, terrified.

He couldn’t help the whine that left his lips as he saw Mac with his smart phone out, taking a picture of Dick from behind at an angle that would allow the photo to capture his face, and his bottom. A million thoughts ran through Dick’s mind, but the one that hit him hardest was that this, his humiliation, his rape, was now recorded in time. Captured forever.

“What are you doing?” Dick hissed, rolling onto his side while trying to curl into a ball, trying to hide away from the prying lens. He cried out when part of his weight was distributed onto his injured arm.

“Since Bruce knows there’s an invasion going on at home, we might as well let him join in on the fun. He should see what he’s missing.” Mac said smugly, typing away on his phone. After a moment, he smirked before putting the phone back into one of his pockets. “Sent.” He sounded downright gleeful.

Dick felt the familiar hot pressure of tears welling in his eyes. As much as his logical mind had always known Bruce would find out about the rapes, his heart wanted nothing more than for his lover to be oblivious. While Bruce remained out of the picture, there was still a glimmer of hope that he would never know. Now, not only would he know about it, he would see the result of it firsthand. He would see Dick’s failure, firsthand. Dick fought against the tears, swallowing around the ache in his throat. 

“Bobby, did you get a chance to check the kid’s work?” Mac questioned, peering over the desk.

“Yeah, we’re set. He got it all.” Dick heard Bobby reply.

“Good, let’s get out of here. Pack up, boys!” Mac shouted.

When Bobby came around the desk without Tim, Dick frowned in concern. Was Tim still behind the desk? What had Bobby done to him?

“Tim?” Dick called, but there was no response. “Tim!” Dick tried again, pausing for a response, but again, the only sounds were the other men getting ready to leave. Panicking, Dick tried to get himself off the coffee table. He was able to roll off, however when he tried to stand up his legs shook ridiculously. Before he was able to take a step, though, Mac approached, causing Dick to flinch back reflexively.

“C’mon, baby. Time to go.” Mac said, bending over and throwing Dick over his shoulder.

“What?” Dick gasped, the air rushing out of his lungs from being flung over Mac’s shoulder, ass back in the air, blood rushing to his already pounding head. “No!” Dick yelled.

“Lover for a lover, sweetheart. You’re mine now.” Mac said, making his way towards the doors of the study. “Murphy, Jake, Nate, you’re with me. Bobby, clean all the evidence, then you guys high tail it out of here. We rendezvous back at the base at 13:00.”

While Mac had been stating his claim on Dick all morning, Dick never truly thought he’d be taken from the manor.

“No! Let me go!” Dick shouted, wiggling as much as he could to get out of Mac’s grasp. He didn’t care if he broke something else falling from this height, he couldn’t leave Tim and Alfred. Was Tim even okay? Were they part of the evidence to be “cleaned up”?

Mac didn’t have any difficulty keeping Dick slung over his shoulder though.

As Mac approached the couch with Dick, Alfred stood up, blocking Mac’s path.

“I must insist you put him down at once. He is not your property.” Alfred stated assertively. Mac didn’t pay any heed though, ignoring the butler completely and administering a nasty punch as they passed. While Mac walked away, Dick saw Alfred’s still form on the couch.

“Alfred! No!” Dick hollered, still wrestling on Mac’s shoulder. “Let me go! Leave them alone! Put me down!” Dick yelled as Mac opened the doors to the study. Dick locked his eyes on Alfred’s form, watching for any sign of movement until the butler fell from view as they rounded the corner out of the study.


	6. The Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see Chapter 1 for original notes.
> 
> Today was the first quiet day I've had in what feels like weeks. I finally got a chunk of time to sit down and write. It feels totally strange. Thanks for sticking with me throughout the wait! I hope you enjoy! Comments and feedback are always welcome.

As Mac carried a naked Dick over his shoulder through the halls, Dick desperately wracked his brain for a way to get out of the situation. Being taken from the manor would only complicate things. Bruce knew where they were, he knew where to rescue them. But if Dick’s location changed it would take longer for Batman to find him. Meaning extra hours with Mac. What he wouldn’t give for his utility belt at the moment, or his gloves, anything that may have a pick to undo the cuffs. Make that the whole suit, because even if he got out of the cuffs, Dick Grayson, the civilian, wouldn’t be able to take down four ex-military personnel. Not without bringing up some unwanted questions. If he had the cover of Nightwing, he wouldn’t have to second guess how to handle this. He could just do what he had been trained to do.

Dick continued to struggle, commanding Mac put him down in his most authoritative voice, but the older man, along with the other soldiers, ignored him completely. He had to stop speaking when the nausea became too much from Mac’s gait. Dick was trying to hold his torso as rigid as he could to reduce swaying, but it didn’t seem to be helping any.

When they entered the dark, open bays of the garage, Dick was surprised to see two Hummers – clearly not part of the Wayne fleet – parked in two stalls that had previously been empty. Well that answered the question of how they got in, and how they were planning to get out.  

Once they approached one of the Hummers, Mac set Dick down on his feet. Teetering for a moment, Dick struggled to gain his equilibrium and stabilize his stomach. It was getting harder and harder to control his body’s reactions. Mac pressed him against the vehicle, most likely for steadiness, causing a shiver to run through Dick as the cold of the metal seeped into his skin. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” Mac smiled, reaching up to cup Dick’s cheek. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Dick narrowed his eyes in defiance, pulling away from Mac’s touch.

“ _You_ are happening to me. Let me go. You got what you came for – the money, the files – just leave.” Dick said, trying to keep his voice even yet stern.

“I wouldn’t give up my bonus that easily.” Mac said, a mock frown dancing across his features as his hand reached down to Dick’s groin, gently rolling Dick’s balls in his palm. When Dick attempted to pull his hips away, Mac’s grip tightened painfully. Dick grunted, stilling immediately, wincing in discomfort.

“I’m not a bonus, and I’m definitely not yours.” He ground out, anger flaring in his eyes.

“You are now, sweetheart.” Mac murmured, stepping closer to Dick before wedging a leg between the younger man’s, kicking them open slightly. Mac massaged Dick’s package again. “This is mine,” he said, squeezing the sensitive flesh tightly to punctuate his meaning. He then pushed Dick harder against the vehicle while brushing his lips over the younger man’s mouth, “and this is mine,” he continued, tracing his tongue over Dick’s lips before dipping down slightly so his fingers could travel from Dick’s package to his cheeks, spreading them swiftly and rubbing his middle finger against Dick’s opening, “and _this_ is mine.”

Dick choked on whimper, his breath ghosting out against Mac’s mouth as he flinched against the soldier’s hold. The older man chucked, his finger continuing its assault as he maneuvered himself so he was directly in Dick’s line of sight. 

“Bruce may have claimed you first, but he’ll never have you again.” Mac said, thrusting his finger as far in as he could from his awkward angle. Dick gasped, trying to twist away with no luck. “Wayne needs to know how it feels to lose someone over business. He needs to learn how business can affect lives. You, sweetheart, are going to help me teach him that.” Mac said smiling. 

“Not a chance,” Dick ground out, staring wildly at his assailant.

A sinister smile spread across Mac’s mouth.

“You won’t have a choice.” Mac sneered, “Much like you haven’t had a choice this morning. You’re mine. You’ll do as I say.” Mac said, giving a particularly hard thrust before pulling his finger from Dick, rubbing the pucker gently before freeing his hand from between Dick’s legs. He gripped the vehicle’s roof on either side of Dick’s head, effectively blocking him in against it. Dick knew Mac’s stance was intended to intimidate and state dominance, but Mac didn’t know it wouldn’t work. “Have I made myself clear?”

Dick’s brow furrowed, his mind reeling from the thought of being captured by this man only to be turned into a pawn, and a plaything. Well, that wasn’t going to happen, not if Dick had anything to do with it. Raising his knee abruptly, Dick was able to get a clean shot at Mac’s groin, causing the larger man to take a step back reflexively, giving Dick room to kick hard down onto Mac’s left knee. This time, he felt the joint give as Mac yelped in pain, going down hard. 

In an instant, Dick leapt to the side, away from the Hummer and his assailant. Stumbling for a second from the dizziness, Dick struggled to get his feet under him. Once he found enough balance, he bolted away from the other soldiers, only making it half a dozen steps before being tackled from behind.

Dick landed with a grunt, all the air rushing out of him as the solid mass of a soldier landed heavily on him. Before he could even gather himself enough to take a breath, a hand wound its way into his hair, pulling his head back before slamming it forward into the concrete. White, hot pain exploded in Dick’s skull, his vision becoming a flickering of red and black dots. 

Dick laid still, waiting for the pain to fade a touch before he even dared to move his head. He hadn’t noticed the weight rolling off him, or the soldier moving down his legs, at least not until a grinding pain started in his left ankle. Dick hollered, curling into a ball on his side while trying to jerk his ankle away, but the grip holding him wouldn’t allow for it.

Dick cried out as he felt his ankle pop, a burning ache now shooting up the outside of his calf. Blinking wildly, Dick tried to focus his vision enough to look at his feet to see what-in-the-hell the soldier was doing to him, but everything was still too blurry to make out any detail. He could see a blob of green where the man was, but he couldn’t even tell if it was Mac, or one of the others.

“Let’s see you try and run, now, bitch,” the man said with a leer in his voice. It definitely wasn’t Mac, and Dick definitely wouldn’t be doing any running in the near future. Unceremoniously, the man dropped Dick’s foot to the floor. It banged hard against the cement, drawing out a whimper from Dick. Distantly, through the pain, Dick could feel the soldier getting to his feet before a hand grasped his bicep tightly, trying to haul him up as well. Dick shrank away from the touch, his mind screaming _no_ as his body screamed in agony. 

He wasn’t going to be taken from the manor. He needed to get back to Tim and Alfred, to see if they were all right. When Dick had been removed from the study, he hadn’t known what was going to be done to them, or what state they were in. He needed to go back and save them!

Dick pulled away from the soldier’s grip, ready to start fighting with his last available limb when a shadow fell over them, an acquainted flutter whispering in the air above. Dick didn’t have to look up to know who that shadow belonged to. An intense wave of emotion washed over him, his body sagging slightly from relief, the fight leaving him.

In one fell swoop, the soldier was gone, kicked off and away from Dick as a much more familiar form settled over him. _Batman – Bruce._

Before anyone had time to react, Batman wrapped an arm between Dick’s back and his cuffed wrists, pulling him up tightly against his chest. Dick bit down on the rush of nausea that overtook him from the movement, allowing his head to settle into the space between Batman’s shoulder and neck as he breathed deeply. The scent of Kevlar, leather, and _Bruce_ washed over him, followed by an overwhelming sense of safety, comfort, and protection. Batman was here, he’d be alright now. They would all be alright now. 

Then they were flying, a retracting grappling hook pulling them to the safety of the shop mezzanine in a far corner of the garage. Normally, Dick loved to fly; nothing felt better than flying beside Batman. Today however, as his stomach lurched and a pain from the ascent tore through him, he wanted nothing more than to be on solid ground. He felt Batman’s grip tighten on him when he let out a sickly moan.

When they reached the open landing, Batman held tightly to Dick as the younger man desperately tried to balance on one leg. Gently, Batman backed them into a corner, practically carrying Dick in order to do so, until they were out of view from the floor below. Dick kept his gaze lowered as Batman propped him up against the wall, quietly, but firmly commanding Dick to stay. 

Wrapping his arms around Dick’s waist while still trying to hold him stable, Batman made quick work of the cuffs, allowing them to fall to the floor with a clatter once he had released Dick’s wrists. Batman frowned when he felt Dick tense as Batman’s larger frame boxed him in. He pulled back marginally from the younger man, agitated when Dick still wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Look at me,” Batman’s deep voice commanded. Dick obeyed immediately, years of training causing his compliance to be immediate, not a moment’s hesitation. However, he couldn’t suppress the crushing feeling of embarrassment and inadequacy that coursed through him as he met his partner’s eyes. He could feel heat colouring his cheeks, his throat contracting painfully as his eyes stung with unshed tears. He had failed, miserably, and now Batman was going to let him know about it.

Instead, the larger man unhinged his cloak before wrapping it around Dick’s shoulders and pulling the waist closed around Dick’s nudity. Dick couldn’t help but clumsily gather a handful of the material, pulling it more tightly around him. It was familiar and calming, something safe from his childhood he could anchor himself to.

“You’re early,” Dick managed to whisper as Batman gently rubbed Dick’s upper arms, urging blood to flow back into Dick’s limbs. Dick was trying to sound light and jovial, but it came out too strained. He winced from the way it sounded.

“Not early enough,” Batman replied, guiding Dick down to a seated position on the floor, his back against the wall. Dick swallowed thickly as the room spun and nausea crept back up his throat. Batman immediately saw his struggle and helped him gently lean to the side until Dick had gathered himself enough to quell the queasiness. Then, he slowly pushed Dick’s head back enough to look into his eyes.

“You’re concussed.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah, I’d definitely say so.” Dick huffed a laugh, again trying to make light of the situation. Batman’s gaze, even behind the whiteout lenses, was intense. 

Dick groaned as he felt Batman probe at his forehead, wincing as acute pain shot through his skull and dark spots again danced in his blurry vision. The concrete had most certainly won that battle. Dick wasn’t surprised when he felt Batman’s fingers spread the warmth and stickiness of blood on his forehead. He looked to Batman for any indication how big the open wound was, but no surprise, he couldn’t get any gage of how bad it was. Any further inventory of Dick’s injuries was suspended when they heard a holler from below.

“Bring him back here, you freak! He’s mine!” Mac shouted, causing Dick to jerk away from Batman’s touch. Just the sound of that voice had Dick reacting defensively. A low, rumbling growl emanated from Batman’s chest.

“I’ll be right back, stay here.” Batman’s gravelly voice commanded. Dick looked down as a Batarang was pressed into his hand. He clenched the weapon sharply, allowing the reassuring metal to bite into his palm. “Stay awake.” With that, Batman was gone, swinging down to the ground level.

Dick strained to listen as Batman fought below, moving through each of the soldiers, likely disarming and incapacitating each one before moving on to the next. Dick was expecting gun-fire, or sounds of strained fighting. He wasn’t expecting Batman to be back next to him in a matter of minutes. At least, he thought it had only been a matter of minutes.

“I thought I told you to stay awake.” Batman’s voice had startled him.

“I am.” Dick replied weakly, turning his attention to his lover who was once again kneeling beside him.

A nonbelieving grunt left the Bat. 

Dick desperately wanted to ask what had happened to Mac, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He knew Batman would handle it, and wouldn’t have come back if everyone below hadn’t been dealt with. So, he turned to the thing weighing heaviest on his mind – their family.

“Tim and Alfred. They’re in the study, unresponsive when I left.” Dick said, blinking blurrily up at Batman, trying to push the larger man away and off to the study. Batman had to go save them, too.

“They’re fine, I got to them first.” Batman replied, gently trying to guide Dick’s arms back down and settle him.

“What? Are they okay?” Dick asked, slightly confused. He thought they had both been out when he was taken.

“They were both conscious when I left. They were fine.” Batman reassured. 

Dick sighed, leaning back a little heavier against the wall, listing a touch to the side. His family was safe. They were all safe. He allowed his eyes to slide shut, only to snap them open as Batman tried to help him lay down. Dick groaned, holding on tightly to the cape as Batman gently lowered him. 

“Dick, don’t fall asleep. With your concussion, you need to stay awake.” Batman commanded, again starting to inventory Dick’s injuries from head to toe. Dick allowed his concentration to wander and his eyes to slip closed, feeling safe in this ritual. He knew this part. He could trust this part. He only let out a hiss when Batman checked his broken arm, and whimpered embarrassingly when he examined his ankle, but other than that, Dick thought he handled himself pretty well. At least, until he felt the cape shift and a hand nudge his legs open.

“Batman?” Dick questioned warily, opening his eyes while trying to sit up. 

Batman’s large hand settled on his shoulder, keeping Dick still as another finger swiped at Dick’s battered entrance.

“Hey!” Dick yelped, closing his legs while trying to roll away from the prying fingers, immediately causing the world to shift enough to start heaving. Batman rubbed soothing circles on Dick’s back as he emptied what little contents he did have in his stomach onto the floor.

As Dick was turned away, trying to compose himself, Batman rubbed his thumb against the finger that had gathered moisture from Dick’s entrance, grimacing at traces of blood and cum. By the time Dick leaned back, Batman had wiped his hand clean and was pulling the cape tightly around Dick once more. Dick was averting his eyes again, silent tears now streaming down his face.

Batman paused slightly before softly brushing the tears away, then slowly gathered Dick in his arms. At first, he was just going to lift him to get him out to a medic, but when Dick pressed into his touch, curling into Batman’s chest, he relented, pulling Dick closely into a hug. He felt the younger man tremble as wet, heavy breaths fell in not-quite sobs against his chest. Batman stiffened slightly at the emotion, both Dick’s pain and his own guilt, before allowing his body to soften and further envelop the smaller form in his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” Batman whispered, a hand winding its way into Dick’s hair. He held his partner tightly, willing to sit there as long as Dick needed. 

He made two vows as they sat there quietly, both grieving the events of the last several hours in their own way. The first, he vowed to provide all the strength, comfort, love, support, and security Dick would require to get through this nightmare. The second, Conor MacAlister would pay.


	7. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see Chapter 1 for original notes.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has read the story and stayed with me!!!! Your comments and feedback have been amazing, and it's because of you guys that this story keeps going! I swear I originally thought I'd be able to wrap this up in under 10,000 words, and look, we're already double that! So thank you to all you lovely people! I hope the wait for this chapter is worth it!!!
> 
> I should also mention that the Bruce Wayne I picture is a bit more of a softy than most other writers convey. I grew up watching the golden-age show, and the animated series, where Bruce is much softer than in the movies. So I modelled him more like the one I grew up with...

Dick swallowed painfully, his mouth and throat beyond dry as he drifted back into consciousness. He tried to slowly make his way through the fog in his mind. Without opening his eyes, he knew he was in a hospital. The smell of heavy cleaner and lingering sickness gave it away instantly. He could feel his brow crease as he tried to remember _why_ he was in the hospital.

He tried to think back to the last patrol. That’s most likely when something went wrong. His mind wandered over the events of defusing the burglary, then on to busting the drug ring, lastly forming the memories of returning some escapees to Arkham. All of it seemed okay in his mind, nothing pointing to why he would be in a hospital bed.

His mind moved forward in its timeline. He remembered driving back to the Batcave with Robin, remembered getting into a cold, empty bed because Bruce was away on business, and remembered thinking he needed to call him in the morning because he was too tired to call him before bed. He remembered there was a storm outside … it had woken him up.

No, the storm hadn’t woken him up …

Dick could feel his heart rate start to increase as his mind searched for what had woken him up during the storm, a sense of dread and anxiety building within him. Then, with an intensity similar to the lighting of the storm, the image of a shadow lurking over his bed flashed in his mind.

Mac.

Dick’s eyes flew open as he instantly tried to sit up, panic coiling tightly in his chest.

_Mac._

He choked out a gasp as his body screamed in protest to the movement, his head feeling like it was going to split open, and the world spinning dizzily around him. A hand on his shoulder was gently pushing him back down onto the bed, increasing his panic tenfold. It was Mac. Mac was holding him down. _No! Not again!_

Dick yelped, reaching up to hit the hand away, desperately trying to curl away from the touch, to get away from the form hovering over him. His eyes were wide open in fear, but he couldn’t make out anything through the blurry haze. He felt himself starting to fall off the edge of the bed when strong arms gathered him closely, pulling him back against a big, strong chest. Dick struggled with all his might, which was in actuality only a weak flail, the form holding him having no trouble keeping the embrace.

“No!” Dick croaked out, slamming his eyes shut. He tried to heave in a breath to scream for help, but his lungs were seized, chest held too tight from the panic. The sense of helplessness from not being able to fight off his assailant, from not being able to call for help, fed his panic in an unfair escalating loop.

“Dick,” a familiar voice called gently, persistently. The low tone slowly registered through the fog in his mind. He knew that voice, that voice was safe.

“Dick, breathe,” the deep voice murmured encouragingly. The hands that had felt like they were holding him captive now felt like they were trying to nurture and sooth, gently rubbing up and down his back and arms. Then, a scent different from the hospital cleaners and sickness filtered to him. A scent he associated with warmth, safety, comfort and home.

_Bruce._

Dick let out a relieved sob of air. His chest was still constricted painfully, but slowly the grip started to ease, allowing him to take more breaths, each a little deeper than the last.

“That’s it,” Bruce soothed, “deep breaths.”

As he came down from the panic attack, he realized he was being shifted further back onto the bed. He allowed himself to be moved, his body feeling like dead weight, exhaustion rushing over him quickly. When he felt Bruce move away, he reached out blindly, trying to grasp Bruce’s hand or wrist or sleeve, anything he could get a hold of. Bruce must have noticed immediately, because before Dick could make a noise of complaint, a hand grasped Dick’s, squeezing gently.

“Don’t go,” Dick slurred out sleepily, holding on desperately until he drifted off again, barely hearing Bruce’s soft reply.

“Sleep. I’ll be right here.”

 *****

The second time Dick came to, he remembered where he was and why, but this time he also remembered that Bruce was there. His mind was a little less foggy, slowly piecing together memories of what happened at the manor, of Batman rescuing him, followed by Batman carrying him out to where the police had been stationed with an ambulance. He remembered the unease of being separated from Batman as he was released into the care of the EMTs, having to remind himself that there should be little to no reason why Batman would ride with Dick Grayson in an ambulance. He briefly remembered Batman talking to the medics about his injuries before he was jostled about in the back of the ambulance, riding to the hospital.

He remembered hearing snippets about taking him to surgery, remembered waking up during the rape kit, and remembered being woken up several times to check for any side effects of his concussion. He desperately hoped he would convert the last twenty-four hours to his long-term memory and forget all the details soon.

Before he could even open his eyes, he drifted off again.

 *****

The third time Dick woke, his mind was much clearer, but with that he also felt the aches and pains from the ordeal at the manor. He tried to swallow, but there wasn’t enough moisture in his system to allow for it. His throat just audibly clicked from the attempt.

He allowed his eyes to slowly drift open, grateful that his vision wasn’t as blurry as he remembered it being when he had woke up and had the panic attack. _Oh God._ Dick groaned, closing his eyes again in embarrassment just from the memory of it.

“Dick?” Bruce’s voice gently questioned from beside him, thankfully saving him from his memory of the incident.

Dick’s eyes fluttered open as he turned his head toward the deep, calming, voice. The sun was streaming in through the window behind Bruce, only allowing Dick to make out his silhouette. Dick felt marginally insulted by the cheery weather. It should be cloudy and grey to match his mood. He squinted, trying to see Bruce more clearly.

The older man noticed the sunlight pouring directly into Dick’s eyes, turning to close the curtain partially so that Dick’s bed was cast in shadow. Dick blinked a couple times, allowing his vision to adjust to the dimmer lighting. When he looked to Bruce again, his heart broke a tiny bit.

His lover looked like hell. Well, as close to hell as someone that good looking could. He had a day or so’s worth of stubble darkening his jawline, and his hair was sticking up in odd angles where he must have been tugging on it or sleeping with a hand placed awkwardly in it. He was dressed down in jeans and a button up shirt that was unbuttoned at the top and a bit dishevelled. But what really pulled Dick’s heart was the utter devastation haunting Bruce’s features.

“Hey,” Dick tried to say, but it came out as a whisper, his vocal cords too dry to work.

“Here,” Bruce said, bringing a straw up to Dick’s mouth. Dick felt his lips crack from dryness as he wrapped them around the straw and sucked. The water was room temperature, but felt like heaven washing over his tongue and down his throat. After a few draws, Bruce pulled the straw away.

“Thanks,” Dick said, his voice actually working this time, but still sounding weak from lack of use.

Dick tore his eyes from Bruce’s face, feeling slightly uncomfortable from what he saw there. He couldn’t help but wonder what was weighing heaviest on Bruce for him to look like that. Was it the loss of the money? No, probably not. Money was never something Bruce got upset over. That, and Dick knew any amount of money was worth the wellbeing of their family. Perhaps he was concerned about whatever private information was downloaded from Wayne Tech. Dick had no idea what could’ve been in those files. Maybe Bruce was having to deal with whatever shit storm came from those documents being stolen.

Dick took a deep breath. Add those issues on top of worrying about his family. His family that Dick wasn’t able to protect.

“Alfred and Tim,” Dick rasped out, knowing Bruce would hear the question.

“We’re fine,” Tim’s voice sounded from the other side of Dick’s bed.

Dick jerked his head to the side a little too quickly, causing the throbbing to intensify for a couple heartbeats before settling again. The relief at seeing the teen standing there whole and unhurt took Dick slightly by surprise, a painful lump forming in his throat. Tim looked fine essentially, a bit of a shiner under one eye, but nothing too bad. The trepidation the teen was exuding seemed to be another matter, however.

“Hey, little brother,” Dick smiled groggily, hand reaching up towards Tim’s face so he could better inspect the bruise. “You okay?”

Tim huffed out a chuckle, pushing Dick’s hand away.

“That’s my line. I’m fine. This little shiner? I’ve sustained way worse injuries from myself.” Tim teased, a smile gracing his face as some of the anxiety disappeared.

Dick smiled back, warmly remembering the couple instances where Tim did actually cause self-injury. But there were more occasions of Dick miscalculating a landing or misjudging his ability and inflicting personal injury than there ever were of Tim.

“That’s my line,” Dick softly fired back, but the joke didn’t have the desired effect. Instead, Tim went stiff, a flash of … something … overcoming his features. Just as quickly the look was gone, but Tim was still visibly uncomfortable.

Dick frowned. What had he said?

“Tim?” Dick questioned.

“Alfred said to say hi, too. I’ll leave to you two to catch up.” The teen blurted out, taking a few steps back from Dick’s bed. “I’m glad you’re awake.” And with that, he was out the door.

Dick turned to Bruce, clearly confused with what just happened.

“What did I say?” Dick asked.

Bruce just shook his head once.

“He’ll be fine.”

Dick looked back towards the door, his heart hurting for his little brother.

“How do you feel?” Bruce’s voice asked, bringing him back to his current condition. The older man held Dick’s hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb across Dick’s knuckles. Only now, staring at their two hands joined, did Dick realize his right arm was in a cast. Damn, apparently it had been broken.

Taking a quick inventory of the rest of his body, Dick recited out his status to Bruce, knowing the other man wouldn’t let it go until he did. He mentioned that his head throbbed with each beat of his heart, but it was dull. His vision was still a little off, but Dick attributed that to being tired now more than anything. His casted wrist ached slightly, but not too bad. His ankle was what hurt the most, though.

“I’ll call the nurse, see if we can give you anything to bring the pain down.” Bruce said, letting go of Dick’s hand to reach for the call button. Dick didn’t want to decipher why his chest suddenly tightened from the loss of contact.

“It’s manageable.” Dick said, trying to grab at Bruce’s hand to pull it back, but it was already out of reach.

“You’ll sleep better and heal faster with less pain.” Bruce insisted, hitting the call button on Dick’s bed before bringing his hand back down to hold Dick’s again.

Dick sighed, relieved at having the contact back.

“When can I go home?” Dick asked.

“Another day, maybe two. They want to be sure there’s no complications from your concussion or surgery. They’ll probably switch out your casts before they let you out, once the swelling’s gone down a bit.”

“Surgery?” Dick asked, surprised.

“Your ankle. They did quite a number on it.”

Dick hummed, now not surprised that it hurt so much. Dick did another mental sweep of his body, trying to remember any other injuries sustained from Mac. His body shuddered as he remembered the man – remembered getting raped, repeatedly, by him.

Dick felt his cheeks heat and a sweat break out, his body remembering the pain from the multiple instances. He felt his throat working to swallow a few times in memory of choking and almost passing out from the oral sex, his body proving to itself that he wasn’t currently choking. He also felt his ass cheeks and anus clench from the memories of anal penetration, making Dick wince as a residual burn occurred. The feeling also brought forward another memory of waking up during the rape kit, undignified sounds emanating from him – whimpering, pleading, screaming – before he submitted to darkness again. _Oh God._

“Dick,” Bruce’s voice shattered his trance, his broken tone causing Dick to look at him. He only then realized there were tears streaming down his face.

Just then, the nurse walked in, asking what she could do for them. Dick furiously wiped away his tears with his free hand, looking down at his lap and allowing Bruce to take lead of the conversation. There was a strained silence as the nurse administered some pain medication into Dick’s IV before leaving the room.   

The silence extended a moment after the nurse left. Dick kept his gaze averted, trying not to encourage the conversation he was sure they were about to have.

“He’ll pay for what he did,” Bruce said, but the voice didn’t even sound like him. Instead of being low and gravely, it was strained and tight.

Dick flinched from the statement. He desperately didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to go down this road. He didn’t want to know that Bruce knew _everything_ that had happened. He wanted nothing more than to be told it was all just a nightmare – that it wasn’t real. So, he did what he did any time he didn’t want to talk about something, he tried to change the course of the conversation.

“You know about the money transfer, then? And the documents stolen from Wayne Tech?” Dick asked. His own voice sounded strained as well, Bruce’s impending disappointment in Dick weighing heavily on his chest. He preferred the weight of this topic over the other conversation hands down, though.

“That’s not what I was referring to,” Bruce said, his voice taking an edge now.

Dick swallowed, feeling his throat start to ache from emotion, and his eyes burn from unshed tears. Shame coloured his cheeks, anger unfurling low in his chest at his lack of control.

“Dick,” Bruce’s voice now held the authority of Batman’s. The unspoken command to look at Bruce was clear as day.

Dick pulled his gaze up from his lap to Bruce’s face, the tears once again spilling over onto his cheeks. A sob ripped out of him before he could smother it, or get himself under control.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick choked out, followed directly by another sob, then another.

Strong arms locked him in an embrace, causing Dick to stiffen momentarily before sinking into it. Bruce pulled Dick forward so he was enveloped in Bruce’s larger frame, holding Dick tightly to him. Dick grasped handfuls of Bruce’s shirt, desperately trying to anchor himself through his emotional rollercoaster. He was having great difficulty reining himself in though, which only added insult to injury, now looking emotionally weak in front of Bruce as well. When Dick’s sobs quieted a little, Bruce’s voice rumbled low against his ear.

“You have _nothing_ to be sorry about. You were a hero. You placed yourself in danger to keep everyone else as safe as possible, and you outsmarted one of the smartest men I’ve met in my career.” Bruce’s hand reached up to pet Dick’s hair before placing a kiss on the top of Dick’s head. “There’s nothing else you could’ve done without putting anyone, or any _thing_ at serious risk.” Dick immediately knew Bruce was referring to their secret identities. “There is nothing for you to be sorry about. Do you hear me?” Bruce asked.

Dick sat frozen, his sobs now nothing more than mere hiccups. His head was pounding again from the crying, so Dick was having difficulty processing Bruce’s acquittal of his actions. As he replayed the words in his mind repeatedly, a deep worry slowly started easing from his chest. 

“I’m damn proud of you.” Bruce whispered fiercely into Dick’s hair.

Dick rested his head on Bruce’s chest, trying to control his breathing enough to speak.

“The money -” Dick started, but was quickly cut off.

“Was from an insured account. As soon as there was a transfer, the account was flagged, the police were notified, and the transaction was reversed. He didn’t get any of the money.”

Dick frowned.

“A phantom account?”

Dick felt Bruce nod.

“Set up for just this purpose.”

Dick huffed, a little incredulously.

“And when were you going to let me in on that one?”

“I was hoping I never had to.”

Dick swallowed, chest again tightening painfully. Instead of letting his feelings build, he moved on to the next topic.

“The documents - ”

“Had false data in them. As soon as I knew who had broken in, I had Lucius watch for any attempted breaches in any of the companies. He saw Tim come into Wayne Tech’s system. When Tim tried to download the information, Lucius would intervene the packets, replacing their data with faulty information.”

Dick let out a slightly hysterical laugh. Technology, who knew?

“So he didn’t actually _get_ anything.” Dick stated in awed wonder.

He pulled back when he felt Bruce tense up. Looking up at his lover, his mentor, his best friend, he felt a flush creep up his throat from the expression on Bruce’s face.

“He took you against your will, and he took a life. I can guarantee he’ll get more than he bargained for.”


	8. One Step at a Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see Chapter 1 for original notes.
> 
> Okay, so, I'll apologize in advance. This chapter is choppy, but after re-editing it for the past three days, I give up. I hope you're at least able to follow along!

Dick still wasn’t feeling fully coherent the day he came home from the hospital. There was a dull throb in the back of his head that spiked after any sharp movement or exertion, and his attention wandered easily, the ability to focus practically non-existent. But the worst part was the unpredictability of his emotions, which easily threatened to overwhelm him from the simplest of things. He adamantly chalked that up to his concussion though, not wanting to acknowledge any other form of probable cause. Dick hated recovering from concussions, hated not feeling mentally prepared at all times.

On top of the concussion though, his other injuries were making him feel _physically_ inept. His wrist and ankle still made valiant protests anytime he wasn’t lying in bed, but he could handle that pain. He was used to pushing the ache of broken bones and sore muscles aside. What he _wasn’t_ used to was dealing with the constant undertone of anxiety from being out of commission to the extent that he was – mentally and physically. That one was new. 

When he left the hospital, they had given him crutches. He wasn’t supposed to put any weight on his ankle for a matter of weeks. Luckily, he had enough experience that even with a casted wrist, he was able to maneuver gracefully with them. The hospital had also given him a number of pamphlets on STDs, depression, group therapy, and a bunch of other related material that Dick refused to read. After the rape kit had been performed, the lab came back with a negative test result of any STDs from the semen samples gathered from Dick, much to everyone’s relief. His own first round of tests had come back negative as well, but he would still have to go back for testing over the next six months in case anything developed. Six months never felt so far away. Lastly, he was given an ointment and clear instructions to avoid anal intercourse for 6 weeks, to stick to a high fibre diet, and to have warm baths daily (multiple, if he could manage it) to help with the healing of the anal tearing. 

Dick had blushed furiously when Bruce had taken the ointment from the doctor before Dick had even managed to raise his hand. He had to remind himself that there was no need to be embarrassed. Everyone in Gotham knew that he and Bruce were in a relationship. That, and Dick had been willing to pay the price at the manor to keep his family as safe as he could. This had been something he’d chosen. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Bruce had only left his side a couple of times during his stay in the hospital, mostly to patrol. The first time had been a disaster. Dick had a full fledge panic attack before Bruce had even made it out the door, causing Bruce to come back and coach him through it, holding his hand tightly during the whole thing. 

Despite all the training, and having multiple instances in the field where he had mentally fought off surges of panic, he hadn’t been prepared for the intensity of the emotion that washed over him in the hospital. It came so quickly he didn’t have time to mentally stabilize himself in order to get through it on his own. His body’s instincts were stronger than his mental control right now, and Dick hated it. It made him feel weak. Dick hated feeling weak. After that first time, Bruce had given him several hours of advance warning that he was going to leave, slowly talking Dick through steps to help control himself before Bruce walked out the door, and Bruce always ensured Tim was there when he wasn’t.

Dick had tried several times to engage Tim in conversation, but the teen was reserved and showed disinterest, sitting in the corner of the room with his homework and laptop. The disconnect was a growing concern. When he felt more mentally stable, they were going to have a serious discussion.

There were multiple times when Bruce was gone that Dick had woken from a troublesome dream, only to see a figure in the shadows on the ledge outside of his hospital window. If he didn’t know that shadow intimately, he would’ve been afraid, he would’ve thought of Mac. But he did know that shadow. He knew it in his dreams, he knew it in his fantasies, he knew that he could wrap it around himself and be safe from everything. He never had trouble falling back asleep.  
  


*****  
  
Coming into the manor, Dick berated himself when he started shaking before he even made it to the bottom of the grand staircase, a fine sweat breaking above his brow. The flight of stairs that he normally flew up now looked ominous, and longer than normal.

Dick’s weary glare must not have gone unnoticed, because before he could muster up enough energy to try and tackle it, Bruce was taking his crutches from him and placing them against the bannister. Bruce wrapped one arm around Dick’s waist, the other behind his knees before effortlessly lifting him and carrying him up the stairs. Dick rolled his eyes at the bridal hold, feeling a grin tugging at the corner of his lips for the first time in days, but was immensely grateful Bruce knew what he needed without Dick having to ask for it.

Bruce carried him all the way to the master suite, pausing when he felt Dick tense in his arms as they cleared the doorway. Dick didn’t know why, but for some reason he had been expecting the room to look how he had left it – dark and foreboding from the stormy night, the bed a rumpled mess of soiled sheets, pillows strewn about the mattress and floor. Instead, the bed was made perfectly, no pillows or mess left about. Sunshine was streaming in through the balcony doors, painting the king size bed in warm yellows and oranges. Dick relaxed, internally chiding himself. Of course it would be cleaned up. Alfred was nothing if not meticulous. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked,” Bruce started, interrupting Dick’s train of thought, “do you want to sleep here?”

Dick hesitated, looking to Bruce before looking back at the bed, frowning while clearing his throat.

“If it’s easier for you, you could sleep in your old room.” Bruce suggested. Dick could hear how carefully Bruce was controlling his tone, – not wanting to push Dick to stay in the master suite, but not wanting to suggest that he go back to his old room either.

“Nah,” Dick said, swallowing before looking back up at Bruce, “here’s fine.” When Bruce still didn’t move towards the bed, Dick started to feel awkward, unsure of what was holding Bruce back, and uncomfortable with the lack of decisiveness the man usually held in abundance. Dick swung his feet a little bit, squirming slightly in Bruce’s arms. “Gonna put me down anytime soon?”

Bruce tightened his hold on Dick, squeezing him slightly as if remembering he had him in his arms. He took two steps before pausing again, looking towards the ensuite.

“Do you want to have a bath first? Or sleep?” Bruce asked.

Dick tried to smile through the discomfort of Bruce’s tentativeness.

“As good as a bath sounds, I’m wiped. Can we sleep first?” Dick asked, feeling a flush creep up his neck when Bruce raised an eyebrow. Apparently, his suggestion of “we” wasn’t so subtle. Bruce didn’t say anything though, he just continued on towards the bed, gently placing Dick down on the fluffy comforter. He helped Dick strip down to his boxer-briefs and get under the covers before moving to go and shut the curtains.

“Don’t,” Dick called, reaching out a hand for Bruce. Bruce hesitated half way to the balcony doors, looking back at Dick inquisitively before schooling his features. Dick again felt his cheeks burn. “Leave them open,” he said, feeling silly. How could he tell Bruce he didn’t want this room to be dark, like, ever again? And when was this emotional insecurity going to stop?

Bruce walked back around the bed, quickly stripping down to his boxer-briefs as well before getting under the covers. He moved himself into the center of the bed and reached out, pulling Dick and carefully arranging him so his head was on Bruce’s shoulder, one arm resting on Bruce’s chest while one leg draped itself between Bruce’s. It was Dick’s favorite position.

Dick was stiff as Bruce arranged them, but relaxed immediately when they were in position. Bruce’s hand ran soothingly up and down Dick’s back as Dick nuzzled closer, resting his forehead against Bruce’s neck.

“Relax,” Bruce said. The low tone vibrated down Bruce’s chest, lulling Dick. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”  
  


*****  
  


When Dick woke, late afternoon sun was streaming in through the windows. He pressed his cheek into the muscular shoulder that was his pillow as he stretched, not wanting to leave the warm place between sleep and consciousness. It was the best he had felt in days.

Bruce’s hand was once again rubbing his back, bringing Dick more and more into the world of the living. Dick moaned in complaint, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he curled himself closer into the embrace. Bruce didn’t rush him though, just continued to run his hand lazily up and down Dick’s back as he let Dick wake up on his own.

When Dick’s mind finally surfaced from the last layers of sleep, he opened his eyes, blinking several times, taking comfort from the feeling of Bruce under him, wrapped around him, anchoring him. Dick had been secretly nervous to return to the manor, to their bedroom, and was relieved that he had been able to sleep so soundly. He knew that was mostly, if not completely, due to Bruce. Slowly rolling onto his back, eyes sweeping to the ceiling, a frown started to mar Dick’s features as a thought occurred to him.

“Are you going to go out on patrol tonight?” Dick asked.

There was movement beside him as Bruce rolled, now lying partially over Dick, propped up on an elbow. Dick could tell Bruce was careful not to put much body weight on him, or to lean too far over him, mindful of his injuries. Dick quietly huffed, surmising that Bruce was probably being mindful of other things as well – like what psychological impacts there may be from looming over Dick, or boxing him in.

“I don’t have to,” Bruce said carefully, causing Dick to look at him studiously before Dick’s frown deepened. That so didn’t sound like Bruce. Bruce was decisive, aggravatingly so at times, with a devoted dedication to keeping Gotham safe at night. There should be no hesitation, no question, no silent request for permission. This indecisive, emotionally sensitive Bruce was not normal. All Dick wanted was for things to feel _normal_. Dick huffed out again. Who was he trying to kid? He wanted things to be as normal as Bruce never leaving his side, which was so painfully – obviously – not normal _._

“Jeez, Bruce, it wasn’t a trick question,” Dick said as he sat up, his internal frustration bleeding out in his tone. Bruce leaned back warily, giving Dick room physically. Dick couldn’t help the tug in his chest from feeling that Bruce was giving him room emotionally as well.

When Bruce remained silent behind him, Dick’s rigid back still facing him, Dick rested his head in his uncasted hand while letting out a deep sigh, his elbow propped up by his knee.

“I’m sorry,” Dick whispered, deflating slightly. “I know you’re trying to –” to what? Be nice? Be supportive? Be whatever Dick needed? Dick bit his lip, his building frustration starting to teeter that sensitive emotional tidal wave. 

Dick couldn’t help the reactive flinch as he felt a hand on his back. He knew Bruce meant it to be supportive, but it did nothing but light a burning anger in his chest. Anger and shame that was directed at himself for having that response. It was _Bruce_. His _lover._ The man he trusted with his _life._ Why couldn’t his body and mind recognize that? 

Dick tried to laugh out at the situation, because how had this become so fucked up? But it came out as a breathy sob as the anger and frustration tipped the balance, the emotional tidal wave washing over Dick, engulfing him as he struggled for breath.

Bruce kept his hand rested on Dick’s back, offering his silent support, an anchor, as Dick took in shaky breaths, trying to stop the onslaught of tears threatening him.

“God,” Dick choked out as he started to collect himself, “I have to get a grip.” He sounded pathetic, wrecked, even to himself.

“No, you don’t, Dick.” Bruce said, deep and quiet. “It’s been three days. You’re concussed, and healing. Give yourself time.”

Dick snorted out a scoff.

“There’s no reason,” Dick said, pausing, debating whether to say what he was thinking. He took a deep breath and let it out. “There’s no reason I should be reacting like this.”

Bruce’s hand moved up to Dick’s shoulder, squeezing gently, but he didn’t move closer. Dick _ached_ for Bruce to move closer, to hold him. The physical distance made the emotional distance feel ten times greater. But Dick didn’t say anything, he didn’t want to ask for it.

“You’re having a perfectly normal reaction to being ra-”

“Don’t say it!” Dick shouted, surprising himself. “Dammit, Bruce,” Dick exhaled tensely, “don’t say it.”

“Dick,” Bruce stated, voice hardening, his hand squeezing Dick’s shoulder tightly.

“I chose it,” Dick interjected, voice flat. “I shouldn’t be reacting like this because I chose it.”

Dick held his breath, waiting, for what he wasn’t sure. He heard the sound of Bruce wrestling with the covers behind him before the larger man came to kneel on the bed in front of him, his hand still on Dick’s shoulder.

“No one chooses to be raped, Dick.” Bruce said, obviously not caring that Dick didn’t want to hear the word. Dick quickly averted his eyes, instead preferring to focus on the sunrays on the carpet next to the bed. “C’mon, you _know_ this.”

Dick frowned, hurt from Bruce’s exasperated tone. He shut his eyes, as if shutting them would shut out the words, too. It didn’t stop the build-up of tears behind his closed lids.

“You think you _chose_ to get raped? What, because it was either that, or letting something happen to Tim or Alfred?” Bruce asked, giving Dick a second to contradict him if he was wrong. “That’s not consent, Dick. That’s manipulation. You _know_ that.” Bruce said, voice tight and hard.

Dick remained absolutely still while he felt a tear stream down his face.

“Just because you _chose_ to put Tim and Alfred’s safety above your own doesn’t mean you chose to get raped, Dick.” Bruce tried again.

“I understood and accepted the consequences.” Dick said, voice thick with emotion. “I shouldn’t be reacting this way. I shouldn’t be scared of every little touch, I shouldn’t be crying at the drop of a hat. I’m stronger than this.”

“You and I should know better than anyone that there are emotional consequences tied to tragedy. Just because you were aware it was going to happen, that you _recognized_ you were being _manipulated_ into it happening, doesn’t mean you were emotionally prepared for it to happen. You didn’t ask for this, Dick.”

Dick remained silent again, feeling the emotional tidal wave rescind, leaving a numbness in its place.

“You _are_ strong. You need to give yourself time. It will get better.”

Dick nodded, anything to end the conversation.

“Tim can handle patrol tonight. Now, how about that bath?” Bruce asked.  
 

*****  
  


It had been two weeks since the break-in, and while Dick wasn’t yet back out on patrol, things had slowly been improving. He had learned that sleeping in the master suite without Bruce, especially when it was dark, lead to nothing but nightmares. So, Dick adapted by either staying up reading or watching tv until Bruce came in, or going down to the cave and helping over the computer system. His mind was less fuzzy, and his emotions were slowly starting to feel like they were more manageable. He was starting to feel more in control.

Tim had remained distance, clearly distressed, not willing to approach Dick, or carry on any conversation Dick tried to initiate. The teen would simply remove himself from the room. A couple days after Dick started monitoring Batman and Robin from the cave, things with Tim came to a head.

It had been a routine burglary, really – three thugs, jewelry store, silent alarm tripped. But somehow, one thing lead to another, ending in Robin throwing himself needlessly (to Batman and Nightwing’s trained eyes) into harm’s way. It luckily only resulted in Tim getting a nasty gash across the chest from a thug’s knife, but it could’ve been much worse. The situation was quickly defused after that, Batman finishing off the burglars, tying them up and setting them at the front of the store for when the police pulled in not even two minutes later.

The ride back to the cave that night was tense, not only in the Batmobile, but over the intercom as well. Dick was furious, and was barely keeping his newly controlled emotions at bay. As Tim sat on the stretcher in the med area, Alfred attending to his cut (which wasn’t all that deep really, he’d just need a couple stiches in the deepest part), Dick rested against the rock wall entrance, only using one crutch to help keep balance. Bruce was over on the computer, writing up their report. When Alfred was almost done, Dick couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“What were you thinking?” Dick admonished. “Or were you even thinking at all?” He knew his voice was sharp, but he didn’t have the ability to rein it in, the build-up from their two week long silence seeping through.

Tim looked up, clearly angered.

“You have no room to talk,” Tim replied hotly, but his voice was quiet.

“Now, now,” Alfred chided, but Dick just pushed himself off the wall, making his way a couple steps closer to Tim.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Dick asked, his own temper flaring.

“You know what it means.” Tim said, squaring his shoulders as Dick came closer.

“Clearly, I don’t, little brother.” Dick retorted, making the last couple steps to foot of the stretcher where he was able to lean on it for support. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder for weeks, so why don’t you just come out and say what it is you want to say.”

When Tim remained silent, Dick pushed harder.

“No? Well, let me tell _you_ then. What you did tonight was foolish. Reckless. You put yourself in harm’s way for no valid reason. You’re _smarter_ than that, Tim.” Dick stressed, thumping the stretcher with his casted arm to accentuate his statement.

Tim jumped off the stretcher, body stiff in anger, ignoring Alfred’s protest.

“I’m reckless?!” Tim questioned, astonishment colouring his tone. “I’m the one putting myself in harm’s way?” His voice was gaining volume, an angry flush colouring his chest, throat and face. It was rare to see on the teen.

“Tim,” Bruce’s voice was just behind Dick, his tone low, but warning. Dick hadn’t even heard Bruce approach. But Dick held up a hand, waving Bruce off, not wanting him to interrupt. They needed to get whatever this was out into the open.

“Go ahead,” Dick goaded, “how am I reckless? I’m not the one who threw myself in front of a knife.”

“No, you threw yourself in front of a rapest.”

“Master Tim!”

“That’s enough!” Bruce’s voice boomed, silencing all of them in the room. 

The palpable tension had Dick swallowing thickly, heat now colouring his own cheeks. So there it was. Dick had been expecting that when Tim’s issue was finally laid out in front of him he’d know what to say – how to address it. Now, though, he was at a loss for words. Dick _knew_ that Tim would have issues with how things went down that day. He _expected_ the teen to be upset and angry over what had happened. He hadn’t expected for Tim say _that_ though. 

Dick kept his eyes remained locked on the teen as he tried to process what those words meant, so he saw when tears filled his little brother’s eyes before spilling over onto his cheeks.

“We’re supposed to be a _team._ ” Tim’s voice was strained, wavering slightly as he forced out the words. “But you wouldn’t let me _help!_ You just deflected everything onto you.” 

“Of course I did. I couldn’t let him --” Dick started, but his voice broke mid-sentence. “Jesus, Tim,” Dick tried again, “I couldn’t let him do it to anyone else. I had to keep his attention.”

“I had to watch him rape you! Twice! And you wouldn’t let me help!”

“Because he threatened to do it to you!” Dick shouted back. Tim stumbled half a step, as if the words physically hit him. Everyone stood still for a moment, shocked by Dick’s revelation. “Don’t you get it little brother? If he had done anything to either of you, rape or otherwise, it would’ve been worse than having it happen to me. I couldn’t –” Suddenly, Tim threw himself at Dick. Dick caught the teen in his arms, using everything in him to keep them upright as Tim let out heart-wrenching sobs, clinging desperately to Dick.

“You should’ve -- let me help.” Tim choked out. “I could’ve helped.”

“Ahhhh, Timmy,” Dick whispered knowingly, holding the teen around the shoulders with his casted hand while holding the back of his head with the other, fingers carded through his hair. Dick’s chest was tight, his own vision blurring as tears swelled in his eyes. He knew the exact sense of helplessness Tim felt. Dick just held on to the teen, letting him get it all out. It felt nice to be the anchor for someone else for a change. Not even a moment later though, Dick smiled as he felt Bruce’s hand fall gently onto his shoulder. He was still grateful for _his_ anchor, though.

“Next time, let me help.” Tim said, calming significantly.

“I honestly hope there isn’t a next time.” Dick huffed.

Tim pulled back, punching Dick lightly in the shoulder.

“You know what I mean.”

Dick smiled, but didn’t reply. He couldn’t promise Tim that next time he’d let him help, because honestly, he’d do it all again, he wouldn’t change a thing if that meant keeping Tim and Alfred safe. But Tim didn’t need to know that.

“I’m sorry,” Tim stated, sobering slightly, “for what I said.” His eyes flickered to what Dick assumed was Bruce over his right shoulder, before returning to Dick, looking meek.

“It’s fine, little brother.” Dick said, pulling Tim back into an embrace. “Heat of the moment, and all.”

Dick looked over Tim’s head to Alfred, his heart warming at the older man’s smile of approval. And right then, with Tim solidly pressed up against him, and the weight of Bruce’s hand on his shoulder as Alfred looked on, Dick felt a piece of himself being stitched back together. Their family would get through this – together.


	9. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, thank you all so much for all the feedback and support on my first story! You guys are truly amazing! I apologize it's been so long since the last update, but my life has taken a very distinct turn, and I'm still trying to juggle everything into a smooth schedule again. Once I master it, I'll definitely finish the story. There will only be one chapter after this, and all the big scenes are mostly written, but I won't have any time to write the last couple pieces and/or edit for the next little while (like, literally all of May is a total write-off).
> 
> So! I decided to post an "Interlude" to hopefully keep people interested in the story, and to let everyone know I didn't fall off the face of the earth - I'm just trying to tread water after being thrown in the deep end!
> 
> Now, I'm cringing slightly at the possible feedback I'm going to get on this one. The interlude is not edited, and the content may upset some readers. But! I think it's needed as a step to recovery. Our boys are strong ... I think they can handle it ... this is fiction after all (please don't kill me).
> 
> Anyways, without further ado ....

Dick sighed as he leaned back, the warm water of the bath rushing over him. After having bathed on his own more times than he’d liked to count in the last several weeks, having Bruce join him was a real treat. Dick allowed Bruce’s firm hold to settle him back against the larger man’s chest, Dick’s casted limbs hanging over the edges of the tub. As Bruce reclined against the porcelain, Dick reclined against Bruce, his back to Bruce’s chest, head resting on Bruce’s shoulder. The wide claw foot tub was large enough to allow Dick to settle between Bruce’s thighs comfortably.

“I can’t wait to get these casts off,” Dick grumbled, tilting his head slightly towards Bruce.

“You’ll be training again before you know it,” Bruce murmured, placing a gentle kiss to Dick’s temple.

“Hmmm, not soon enough. I’m starting to hate this tub,” Dick replied quietly, trying to keep any petulance out of his tone. He might have failed … only by a little though.

Bruce wrapped his arms around Dick’s chest, cupping handfuls of water before bringing them up to gently cascade over Dick’s front. Dick let out a groan of contentment, allowing his head to loll on Bruce’s shoulder as the warmth seeped into his muscles, relaxing him further. This was nice. He needed this, with Bruce.

“Maybe I just need to join you more often,” Bruce said, taking in Dick’s pleased response.

The low rumble of Bruce’s voice sent vibrations down Dick’s spine, igniting a spark that the younger man hadn’t felt much at all since Mac. There had been one time in another bath where Dick’s libido had stated its presence, but he had been alone then, and his left hand just hadn’t felt right. He had ended up getting out of the tub without getting off, flustered and frustrated. The whole scenario had left him feeling shaky and off balance, emotionally and physically.

Now though, with Bruce’s strong body pressed tightly against Dick’s, complemented by his rhythmic attention and the low roll of his voice, it was all fueling a neglected desire. As he felt his penis fill and lengthen, Dick turned his face into Bruce’s neck in conflicted emotion. On one hand, he wanted the love, connection, and intimacy he always had with Bruce. On the other, he felt apprehension building just at the thought of sex.

“It’s okay,” Bruce soothed. His hands ceased their washing, instead just gently running up and down Dick’s chest and torso. While Dick and Bruce had touched, hugged, snuggled, even kissed since the incident, it had always been platonic and comforting. Non-sexual. These touches? These could easily be construed as sexual. Clearly Dick’s body was interpreting them as sexual. “Have you gotten off since that night?” Bruce’s voice was gentle, curious, non-judging.

Dick shook his head as he breathed out a “ _no”._ He could feel his chest and stomach tightening from both fear and anticipation. He wasn’t sure which one was winning out though. Bruce hummed in thought, the sound again reverberating down Dick’s spine, this time going straight to his cock. Dick whimpered, holding onto one of Bruce’s wrists with his good hand. He didn’t try and stop Bruce’s gentle strokes, but he felt a little more in control anchoring himself to the older man.

“This is just your body’s natural response to being stimulated after so long without any release. It’s a good response, Dick, but we don’t have to do anything,” Bruce stated softly against Dick’s hair.

Dick ground his back teeth together. He knew Bruce was still being cautious, careful with him, but he didn’t want that right now. He wanted Bruce to not hesitate. He wanted him to be confident as they navigated their way through this.

“Bruce,” Dick said with a pleading tone to his voice. He wasn’t even sure what he was pleading for. For Bruce to stop, or to keep going? Maybe he was just pleading for Bruce to make a decision.

“What do you want, Dick?”

Dick hesitated for a minute. Fine, he could do this. He could make the decision. He focused internally for a moment, deciphering whether the tightness in his chest was more from arousal or trepidation, whether his mind was focused on Bruce or … someone darker, whether his body was simply responding or actually into the act.

Without words, Dick grabbed Bruce’s right wrist and pulled it lower into the water until Bruce was gently running his fingers through the top of Dick’s pubic hair. Dick’s body tensed for a moment, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and relax back into Bruce’s touch.

As Bruce’s hand finally wrapped around Dick’s sex, Dick couldn’t help the full body shudder and shaky exhale. It felt _good_. It felt good because it was _Bruce_.

Bruce stayed still for a moment, waiting to see if there were any objections from Dick, or subtle negative effects. When Dick started to thrust his hips ever so slightly, Bruce read it as the go-ahead. His hand moved on memory, pulling and tugging in all the ways he knew Dick liked. While he didn’t want to rush the experience, he didn’t want to take so long that Dick’s mind would start to wander to things that were better left forgotten. He wanted a good memory to replace the recent dark ones.

Bruce murmured gentle encouragements, pressing kisses into Dick’s hair as his left hand rubbed against Dick’s chest and abs. The younger man let out another shaky breath, a low moan elicited from the back of his throat. Dick’s free hand moved to rake at Bruce’s thigh as the ecstasy built. After going so long without any release, reaching the edge wouldn’t take long.

“ _Bruce_ ,” Dick ground out, his hips thrusting up into Bruce’s hand gently.

“That’s it,” Bruce said quietly. He squeezed Dick’s shaft a little tighter, his other hand coming down to gently cup Dick’s balls. That was all Dick needed, his whole body tensing while his release rushed over him. Bruce worked him through his orgasm, Dick’s cum diluting into the water. An airy laugh bubbled out of Dick as he sagged back into Bruce, thoroughly spent. That had been easier than he thought it would have been.

“You needed that,” Bruce whispered, placing another kiss against Dick’s temple.

“Mhmmm, thanks,” Dick said. Coming back to his senses, he became acutely aware of Bruce’s arousal pressed firmly against his lower back. Dick shifted slightly, rolling his hips to create friction for Bruce, water threatening to splash up over the edge of the tub from that minor movement alone. Bruce’s hands on Dick’s hips stopped his ministrations, though.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about me,” Bruce said. When Dick looked at him with careful hesitancy, Bruce smiled a placating smile. “One step at a time, Dick.”

Dick’s brow furrowed slightly, displeased. Before his thoughts could form around an argument though, Bruce bent down to capture his lips. The kiss was slow and gentle as Bruce reverently claimed Dick’s mouth, his tongue sliding expertly past Dick’s lips, lapping shamelessly. The kiss held just enough heat to pull a content, appreciative moan from Dick, quickening his pulse as his cock gave a valiant twitch of interest. Just as quickly as it started though, it was finished. When Bruce pulled back, breaking the kiss, Dick was left slightly breathless, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the tub water. This. It was _this_ feeling that made Bruce’s experiences so different from Mac’s. It was _this_ feeling that would make going forward easier.

Bruce pecked the end of Dick’s nose.

“Come on, let’s get out before the water gets too cold,” Bruce said, nudging Dick a little so he would sit up and Bruce could slip out from behind him. Dick obliged begrudgingly. Now that he had it back, he didn’t want their connection to end. He wanted to lose himself in the comfort and intimacy of his partner and never surface.

Bruce was safe. Bruce was home.


	10. Moving Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, I'm so sorry for the delay. I've finally piecemealed the end of this story together. It might not flow well, but at this point, I don't think it's going to get any better. Thanks to everyone for their great feedback, support and patience! You guys have been the best! I hope you enjoy the last chapter, and I apologize in advance if you're left wanting!
> 
> Please see Chapter 1 for original notes.

Dick was relieved to learn that Bruce had managed to keep the break-in tightly under wraps. It helped having contacts in the police force and media. Not only had he kept the break-in quiet, but he had somehow managed to ensure Mac’s trial was closed court, no public or media allowed. The prosecution said they didn’t need Dick to testify, that between his statement, the DNA evidence they gathered off of Dick’s body, footage from the security system prior to it being dismantled, network log files, and the police, they would be able to prove Mac’s guilt beyond reasonable doubt. Dick wouldn’t have to place one foot in the court. He wouldn’t have to see Mac again.

They had been right. Mac was tried and found guilty, sentenced to life in prison.

Whenever Dick would ask about details, Bruce would provide them, but it was always short and to the point. He never offer more information than Dick requested, and never brought up anything to do with Mac unless Dick initiated it.

The carpet in the study had been replaced. The bloodstain from Derek was even too much for Alfred to get out despite his cleaning wizardry. Alfred had tricks that Tim and Dick both swore were magic somehow. The coffee table was now gone, and the sitting area had been minimally rearranged. The couch had even been reupholstered. While they were subtle differences, they were still noticeable enough that the first couple times Dick entered the study it left him feeling uneasy, the changes a blatant visual reminder of what had occurred. He told himself it would get easier as the new setup became less eye catching and more normal; when his mind expected to see the set-up as it currently was when he walked into the study, instead of being reminded of the change every time. More specifically, being reminded _why_ it had changed.

“Bruce,” Dick called softly, walking into the study. Dick’s eyes honed in on his partner’s form at the desk, conscious of not letting them linger on anything else. His stride barely faltered this time, his eyes easily bypassing the sitting area. Despite the casts coming off weeks ago and his ankle strengthening every day, there was still a minor limp to his walk.

Bruce looked up, schooling his features before giving a tight-lipped smile, casually filing away the paper he was reading as Dick approached, smoothly closing and locking the drawer. To anyone else the move would have been plain, unnoticed even. To Dick though, it was obvious Bruce didn’t want him to see whatever it was that was locked in that drawer.

“Alfred says it’s time for dinner,” Dick said, calmly coming around the side of the desk and leaning a hip against it. His fingers swept mindlessly across the cool wood as he fought his curiosity. “Is everything okay?”

Bruce stood, a genuine smile now gracing his features as he moved around towards Dick.

“Everything’s fine,” Bruce said, pulling Dick into his arms before leaning down to place a soft kiss to Dick’s parted lips. Dick smiled into the kiss, angling up into it while placing his hands on Bruce’s solid chest. Just as Bruce started to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into the heat of Dick’s mouth, Dick pulled away. His curiosity won out, he needed to know.

“You’d tell me if it was --”

“I’d tell you anything you want to know,” Bruce interrupted smoothly.

“Is there anything I should know?” Dick asked, pulling back slightly while eying Bruce carefully.

“No, everything’s handled.”

Dick quirked an eyebrow, to which Bruce relented.

“Since the sentencing, they’ve had him here in Gotham.” Dick didn’t have to ask to know Bruce was referring to Mac. “I just got word they’re going to move him upstate, that’s all.”

Dick’s eyes flicked over to Bruce’s desk, above the locked drawer. His brow furrowed, curious as to why they would move Mac upstate. It could be a myriad of reasons, even something as simple as Gotham’s prison being too full. That wouldn’t actually be a surprise, considering. But it still felt off, it didn’t sit well.

“It’s over Dick. He’ll never hurt anyone again,” Bruce said gently, pulling Dick from his thoughts.

Dick nodded, turning his gaze back to Bruce.

“Yeah, I know,” Dick said, heaving out a breath, “it just … it’ll take some time, I suppose.”

Bruce hummed, resting his forehead against Dick’s.

“Time will pass,” Bruce assured quietly before pressing a tender kiss to Dick’s lips once more. Dick knew it was supposed to be supportive, and reassuring. Something quick, simple, and sweet. But when Bruce pulled back and looked like he was about to move on, perhaps switch the topic, or finally pull them away for dinner, Dick suddenly didn’t want to lose the moment. It felt like something important. Bruce had said it himself. It was over. It was finally over. Dick wanted another moment for that to sink in, to celebrate.

Dick surged up onto his toes, catching Bruce slightly by surprise as he wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck, pulling him into another kiss. This time, he opened his mouth to swipe and nip playfully at Bruce’s lips.

Bruce breathed out a laugh, which quickly slid into a moan as he started responding in turn. His hands, which had been resting on Dick’s hips, slowly traversed up to Dick’s waist, smoothing their way up Dick’s back, cupping his shoulder blades as Bruce leaned into him, pressing their bodies firmly together before his hands travelled south to finally settle at the small of Dick’s back.

Dick moaned as well, breaking the kiss, breathing hotly into Bruce’s mouth for a moment as he felt excitement ignite deep in his gut. It was rare to feel the tendrils of passion flare as they were; not too fast, yet not too slow.

It had been over three months since the break in, and while Bruce and Dick had succeeded in being intimate a handful of times since then, it had been sporadic. Dick found himself typically only responding when he his body was in extreme need of release, resulting in a fast release that slammed into him from being denied too long, or Bruce took the time warming him up for what was sometimes hours. Their escapades now were limited to only hand jobs, or rutting together. Bruce allowed Dick to take the lead most times, letting him determine the extent to which they went. The one time Bruce had tried to slip between Dick’s legs, Dick had frozen up so quickly, so completely, that sex had been ruled out. Instead, they spent the night curled up together, Bruce holding Dick and murmuring to him until the younger man finally succumbed to sleep at nine the next morning. Bruce had been very aware of his placement during their later encounters.

“Bruce,” Dick murmured, a plea pulling at the corners of the word. He captured Bruce’s lips again, an urgent intensity fueling his motions as he pulled himself up enough to wrap a leg around Bruce’s waist. Bruce easily took the change in weight, his hand immediately going down to support Dick’s thigh before he bent down slightly, encouraging Dick to wrap his other leg around him as well and allow him to take his full weight.

Dick obliged, moaning into the kiss as he rocked his hips into Bruce, Dick’s arousal rubbing against Bruce’s solid abs, the layers of fabric between them creating a fabulous friction. Bruce’s hands moved to Dick’s butt, allowing him to centre his support of Dick’s weight. He pulled the smaller frame closer to him, aiding Dick’s movements against him before quickly realizing this would be escalating into something more. Dick hadn’t been so physical in their love making since the incident.

Turning, Bruce gently set Dick onto the desk, soothing Dick’s whimper of protest with soft kisses. Deftly, he leaned over Dick, picking up the phone and hitting the line for the kitchen. Dick wasn’t deterred, his limbs still wrapped around Bruce while his mouth was placing hungry kisses against Bruce’s neck, chin, throat … anything he could get his lips on.

“Yessir,” Alfred answered.

“Could you keep dinner for Dick and I warm? We’ll be busy for quite some time.” Despite the heat of the moment, his voice gave nothing away, calm and cool as ever.

“Do I need to bring it downstairs for you, sir?” Alfred asked. Bruce smiled warmly, knowing how Alfred worried when Bruce got caught up in Batman’s work, often missing meals being so entrenched in what he was doing. There were many dinners where Alfred had given up on them and just brought it down to the Batcave. Bruce definitely didn’t want Alfred to deliver dinner and walk in on the progress he and Dick were making.

“No, Alfred, we’ll come to the kitchen when we’re ready.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said before hanging up the receiver. He turned his attention back to the man in his arms, who had by now successfully unbuttoned all of Bruce’s shirt and was making quick work of Bruce’s belt while lipping and nipping at his collar bone. As Bruce pulled Dick’s chin back up for a kiss, his other hand subtly slid over the button on the desk that handled the study’s doors. When he heard the click of the doors shutting, providing them their privacy, he reached down to start ridding Dick of his shirt as well.

After pushing Dick’s shirt off his shoulders and pulling it from him fully, Bruce shed his own shirt and jacket off as well, throwing them onto his chair. Before Dick could retrain his focus onto his pants, Bruce decided to take this to a more comfortable setting.

Reaching under Dick’s butt, he hauled them back up and off the desk, Dick’s legs and arms still wrapped around him as he walked them over to the sitting area before settling onto the couch, Dick now in Bruce’s lap.

Dick pulled back from the kiss they had been in as his mind caught up and realized where they were. His eyes dropped to the couch just to the left of Bruce’s shoulder, taking in their setting and their position. In the matter of seconds, his mind’s eye whirled through the morning with Mac, moments appearing like pictures, strobing like the flare of a flash-bulb camera. A camera …

Dick’s eyes focused back on Bruce, who was waiting patiently for Dick to come back to the moment. Dick’s head cocked to the side as his mind slid together memories from that morning.

“There was a picture,” Dick stated softly, his cheeks flushing as his mind replayed the horror of hearing the sound of a picture being taken of Dick on the coffee table, recently used. The horror was followed closely by the sense of dread when he learned of Mac’s intentions with the photo.

The calm mask of indifference that Bruce slid on was answer enough to the question Dick hadn’t even asked. Bruce had seen the picture.

Dick could only imagine what the photo had looked like. He closed his eyes, turning his head away from Bruce ever so slightly as he carefully extracted himself from Bruce’s lap. The sick sense of mortification burned like acid in his stomach, extinguishing any excitement that had been building.

“Dick,” Bruce tried, reaching out to the retreating form, but Dick just shook his head.

“Do you still have it?” Dick asked, taking a couple steps back to give himself some space. He felt incredibly vulnerable at the moment. Despite being clothed from the waist down, he felt naked with this new piece of knowledge, knowledge that Bruce had in fact seen evidence of him in his worst moment. He felt exposed, much like he had been in the image. Trying to appear casual, he crossed his arms over his bare chest. He winced at his own action. He felt ridiculous.

Bruce took a slow breath, leaning forward, resting an elbow on his knee as he eyed Dick with careful measure. Dick could tell Bruce was trying to read the situation, find the words to make it right. Or rather, not worse.

“The file was part of the evidence submitted in court. Once I had passed it on to the police, I deleted it from my phone.”

Dick nodded once, gaze trained on the couch, not willing to meet Bruce’s eye. He was expecting to feel relieved from that answer. It was the answer he wanted to hear. But it didn’t do anything. It left a weight pitted in the bottom of his stomach.

“There is no evidence in this house that it ever happened,” Bruce said gently.

Dick’s eyes shot to Bruce’s then, chest tightening in pain, anger.

“No, just memories. Ghosts. Things that can’t be undone, unseen,” Dick said slowly, enunciating his words to fight off the emotion.

“But will fade with time,” Bruce answered, standing and slowly approaching Dick. Before he made it two steps, however, Dick turned, making his way back over to the desk. Retrieving his shirt, he quickly put it back on.

“Dick,” Bruce tried again, making his way slowly over to the younger man.

“No, Bruce, it’s fine. I’m fine,” Dick managed, again refusing to make eye contact. “You did nothing wrong. It wasn’t in either of our control. You got rid of it, you did the right thing. It’s fine.”

“Clearly, it’s not fine,” Bruce admonished. “Do you want to … talk about it?”

Dick winced. That was so not a Bruce thing to say.

“It’s fine,” Dick reiterated, shirt back on as if nothing ever happened. He squeezed Bruce’s bicep as he passed him, making his way to the doors of the study before slipping out without another word, or a backwards glance.

One step forward, three steps back.

*****              

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” Conor said, voice clearly amused as his visitor walked in. Conor’s wrists were chained to the metal desk in front of him, his legs shackled in chains as well. After all, he was considered high security. There were still two guards standing on either side of him though, just in case. They wouldn’t want the Prince of Gotham to somehow accidentally maimed in their prison. The scandal would follow them for decades.

Bruce held a tight smile as he made his way to the chair sitting opposite the criminal. His stride was slow, but confident, lines clean and powerful. As he sat, he leaned back as far as the chair would allow him, the smile finally sliding from his face.

“Can we get you anything?” Conor inquired, faux sincerity dripping from his lips. “Water? Coffee? A new lover, perhaps? A playboy like you wouldn’t want my sloppy seconds, now would they?” A cocky smirk tugged at the corner of Conor’s mouth. Bruce remained silent, refusing to rise to any sort of bait. Despite Conor attempt to flex any control over the situation, Bruce was assured in their standing.

The inmate made a couple t’sking noises.

“Too soon? Still a fresh wound?” Conor sneered at Bruce, a wild glint to his eye.

Bruce cleared his throat. No need to draw this out longer than necessary. There was a reason he had come.

“I’ve made arrangements to have you moved to a disciplinary ultra-maximum-security prison in upstate New York. A place called Southport. I’m sure they’ll welcome you warmly. The site is strictly sole solitary confinement.”

“Sounds lovely,” Conor replied, smile planted firmly on his face. “You expect that to scare me? I’ve had worse.”

Bruce hummed in agreement.

“Indeed. No, my intent isn’t to scare, just to remove opportunity. You’ll carry out your life sentence there. No parole, no prospect for rehabilitation.”

“How gracious of you to go to such lengths for me. Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, we’re practically _family_ now, having shared the same lover. How is our Dicky doing?” Conor leered.

Bruce simply stood, wandering slowly around the room, inspecting nothing in particular, but needing to move. Despite his years of training, discipline, and his cool resolve, he didn’t want to risk being successfully baited. Instead, he decided to play his cards.

“Not too long ago my sources advised me of a business opportunity, one that I had previously discarded,” Bruce said, still milling about the room. “The first time it came across my desk, I had chosen not to pursue it, not because I questioned the merit of the work, or the genius of the idea, but because of the man behind the company. While the individual was ahead of their time, brilliant even, some would say, they were too aggressive, overbearing … cocky. They were hair-trigger reactive. Those sort of reflexes, while they work well in the military, don’t necessarily work so well in business. I had to let the opportunity go.”

A growl made its way out of Conor as Bruce’s slow pacing carried him closer to the table.

“This opportunity recently had a change in ownership. All rights of the original owner had been passed over to their spouse, who was selling off the business. A Wayne Tech subsidiary was able to procure the company, and all rights and patents pertaining thereto.” Bruce placed his palms flat on the table across from Conor, leaning in closer to the inmate as if to tell a secret. Time to throw out his own bait. “Do you know the name of the company we procured?”

Conor roared, lunging up out of his chair towards Bruce. Bruce stood his ground, unyielding. He had already done the math. He knew Conor’s restrictions. The chains clattered loudly, jerking Conor’s progress to a halt just inches from Bruce, the men standing off toe to toe. The guards reacted a moment too late. Their delayed response was long enough, however, for Bruce to quietly, but firmly state, “MacAlister Dynamics.”

“Why you son of a --” Conor spat, struggling against his bonds, and the guards now trying to wrestle him back into his chair.

With his blow delivered, Bruce turned and made his way out of the room. The indecencies Conor was yelling at him faded as he made his way down the corridor. He consciously chose to allow the name Conor MacAlister to fade from his mind as well.

***** 

Bruce looked at his watch as they pulled up to the manor. Dick should have already been back from his appointment. Their little trip to the prison had taken longer than Bruce expected due to traffic.

After a quick perusal of Dick’s typical hangouts, Bruce was surprised to find him in their master suite. What surprised him even more was that Tim was with him. Tim rarely ventured into their room. The two were simply sitting on the edge of the bed, faces sullen, Tim’s hand resting supportively on Dick’s shoulder. They both looked so small in the grand room.

Bruce’s shock quickly turned to trepidation. If Dick was in need of support, things must not have gone well. But how could that be? They had been testing Dick relentlessly in the cave, and it had all come back negative. Had they missed something?

Bruce’s eyes travelled his lover’s form, his stomach turning at the possibilities, and what they would mean for Dick. For both of them. Seeing Dick just sitting there, looking dejected, ruined, broke something in Bruce as well.

Bruce shook himself mentally. If it was bad news, then he needed to be there for Dick.

Both of the boys’ heads snapped up as Bruce pushed his way further into the room, the creaky door hinge giving him away.

“Hey,” Bruce offered with a sympathetic smile, looking at first Dick, then Tim for any cues. Receiving none, he ventured forth. “How’d it go?”

Dick visibly swallowed before offering a watery smile.

“Good,” he croaked out around emotion. “I’m clean,” he stated simply with a shrug of one shoulder.

Bruce felt like he had been sucker-punched. Clean? They looked this torn down and Dick was _clean?_ With Dick’s health chart officially stamped as STD free? He stopped short on his journey towards the two, confused. He eyed them both in disbelief, trying to re-read the situation.

“So, those are tears of relief …” Bruce stated slowly, leaving it open for someone to verify.

Dick nodded, pulling a reassuring smile from Bruce before the larger man closed the distance between them. Falling to his knees in front of Dick, he pulled the younger man into a hug, which Dick returned with a laugh after a beat.

“Well, I’ll just let you two … you know … hug it out,” Tim said, patting Dick on the back one final time before standing up to make his way out of the room. As he tried to move away though, Dick grasped a hold of his wrist, pulling him down into the hug as well. For a second, Tim and Bruce both stiffened, but just as quickly Bruce wrapped his arm around Tim too.

“Thanks,” Dick said after a moment, “both of you. I know things have been tough, that I haven’t …” Dick cleared his throat, “you know, that things have been different. But now with this milestone out of the way, I really wanted to say thanks, for all the support.”

Tim snorted, pulling back from the embrace.

“As if it would’ve been any other way,” Tim said, pushing himself back further from the couple, making a face when he caught Bruce pressing his lips gently against Dick’s temple. “I’ll go tell Alfred the good news. Maybe he’ll make our favorite meal for dinner!”

“By _our_ favorite meal, do you mean mine or yours?” Dick asked, smiling in Bruce’s hold.

“You’ll just have to wait and find out. Maybe I meant Bruce’s!” Tim said with a laugh, standing and making his way out of the room.

Dick couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped him as well.

“Yeah right, little brother. Who are you trying to fool?” Dick asked, grin wide on his face. Dick looked back to Bruce as Tim rounded the corner out of the room, Dick’s wide smile faltering slightly at the serious look on Bruce’s face.

“Congratulations,” Bruce murmured, placing another gentle kiss to Dick’s forehead. Dick scoffed quietly, but could feel his cheeks burning from the tenderness in Bruce’s voice.

“Thanks,” Dick whispered back, leaning further into Bruce’s solid form, tucking in closer. They both just sat there for a few moments, soaking in the news. “I meant what I said,” Dick stated softly, breaking the silence.

“What’s that?”

Dick pulled back so he could look Bruce in the eye. He blushed further, looking down at his hands as he tried for formulate the words to express his gratitude of Bruce’s support over the last several months. But how do even begin to thank someone for that? There weren’t words in the English language that would properly represent the depth of what he wanted to say. He looked back up to Bruce, trying to convey earnestly what he wanted to say.    

“For the support. The patience. You know, not giving up on me,” Dick said quietly. It wasn’t the most eloquent, but in essence that was what it came down to.

“I’d never give up on you,” Bruce responded, trailing the back of his hand down Dick’s cheek. Dick closed his eyes, reveling in the touch. He never thought he’d feel comforted from that gesture again. Luckily, he’d been wrong. It wasn’t about the gesture. It was about the man behind the gesture. The man he loved. The man that had saved him, in every way he needed to be saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just have to mention, my husband did NOT like the ending. He insists that there's a sequel, but at this point, I can't see me getting to it anytime soon. I hope you find some sort of closure from this. Clearly my husband hasn't!
> 
> Cheers!


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I would leave it there, did you? ;-)
> 
> Please see Chapter 1 for original notes.

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked again, murmuring against Dick’s lips as they kissed. Dick groaned in frustration, finally pulling back from the kiss to look at his lover.

“If you ask me one more time, my answer is going to change,” Dick said, giving Bruce a pointed glare before lunging back up for another kiss.

The duo had attended a charity function at Gotham’s Flugelheim Museum earlier in the evening, and Bruce wasn’t sure if it was the formal wear, or the champagne, but whatever it was, it had Dick whispering sweet nothings into Bruce’s ear. Throughout the evening, though, the sweet nothings notched up to salacious tidbits of what the night could offer if Bruce would just hurry up and take him home.

Bruce, the smart man that he was, didn’t need to be told twice.

“Bruce, for the love of --” Dick stated, pulling back from the kiss once again in frustration, only to be cut-off as the finger that had been preparing his entrance for the last ten minutes finally slid inside. Dick sighed at the breach, allowing his head to fall back against the pillow. The extra stimulation had his body humming.

“Slowly, Dick. We’re doing this slowly,” Bruce responded, trailing kisses down Dick’s exposed neck as he slowly slid his finger in and out of Dick’s entrance.

“If we were going any slower, we’d be going backwards,” Dick huffed, quickly followed by a moan as he felt a second finger rubbing around his entrance as the first continued to fuck him slowly. He felt his cock twitch at the contact. “Bruce, please,” Dick begged, allowing his hand to travel up the expanse of Bruce’s broad back before entangling in his dark hair, trying to tug Bruce back up for a kiss. Dick’s other hand was fisting the sheets as he tried to control the steady thrum of pleasure running through him.

Bruce didn’t budge though, continuing to place kisses down Dick’s collar bone and onto his chest.

“It’s been a long time since anything’s been inside of you. We’re taking this slowly,” Bruce said between more kisses. “Maybe we should just use one of the smaller toys tonight, break you back in gently.”

Dick made a sound of protest, pulling sharply on Bruce’s hair until he finally looked back up at Dick.

“No, I want _you_ tonight, Bruce,” Dick said quietly, almost as if he were embarrassed to even admit it. Bruce surged up the bed, claiming Dick’s mouth again as he slipped his second finger in along with the first, drawing a moan out of Dick. The amount of _want_ that coursed through Bruce’s veins from Dick’s words had Bruce struggling for control.

Dick mewled as Bruce’s tongue pressed firmly into his mouth, searching and claiming as Bruce’s fingers twisted inside of him, picking up the pace slightly. Dick couldn’t help but spread his trembling thighs even further, pulling his knees slightly closer to his chest so Bruce had better access.

Bruce groaned against Dick’s mouth, sucking forcefully on the younger man’s lips before breaking the kiss and extracting his fingers as he sat up, grabbing the lube and a condom off the bedside table and situating himself between Dick’s spread legs.

“Okay?” Bruce asked, rubbing his non-lubed hand up the back of Dick’s thigh as he searched Dick’s face for any sign to stop.

Dick swallowed before simply nodding, pulling his knees up even further to his chest as he reached a hand to link his fingers with the ones running soothingly along his flank.

“Yeah,” Dick whispered, pulling Bruce towards him slightly to encourage him to continue. Bruce nodded as well, snapping the lube open and liberally applying more to Dick’s entrance. Bruce continued to hold Dick’s hand as he bent down, trailing his tongue up Dick’s weeping erection as his fingers settled against Dick’s entrance again. As Bruce’s mouth engulfed the tip of Dick’s penis, he carefully pressed three fingers into Dick, eliciting a gasp from further up the bed. Dick clenched Bruce’s hand tightly. Maintaining a slow thrust in, Bruce’s mouth sunk lower onto Dick’s erection, his fingers and mouth reaching the end of their decent at the same time before both slowly starting to retract.

A choked sob made its way out of Dick from above. Bruce looked up to find Dick’s eyes on him, ablaze with a heat he hadn’t seen in months. Bruce moaned around the cock in his mouth, his fingers helplessly thrusting themselves back into Dick’s warmth.

“Bruce!” Dick cried, squeezing Bruce’s hand even tighter. “If you keep that up I won’t last.”

Humming his agreement, Bruce pulled off Dick’s penis with a lewd slurp, flexing his fingers open as much as he could within Dick’s tight channel. Dick groaned, rocking his hips as much towards the intrusion as he could.

They continued like that for several minutes; Bruce sliding his thick digits into Dick, mouthing along Dick’s inner thigh or lower abdomen as Dick rocked his hips into Bruce’s gentle thrusts.

“C’mon Bruce, I’m ready,” Dick moaned finally, flexing his anal muscles to punctuate his sentence.

“You need more prep,” Bruce responded, leaning back on his heels and looking down at the spread form in front of him. He mind stuttered, taking in the beauty of the man beneath him, reveling in the fact that he was going to finally experience this once more.

“I’ll be fine,” Dick replied with a hint of exasperation. “Please Bruce, I won’t last.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, analyzing. Apparently appeased, he pulled his fingers from Dick once more before reaching for the abandoned condom. As Bruce brought it up to tear open, Dick’s hand closed over it, pulling Bruce’s attention to him.

“I know we don’t normally do this, and I know the risks, and _why_ it’s not safe. But, we both know we’re clean, and tonight, just this once, could we …” Dick swallowed thickly, quickly losing his resolve. He could feel his cheeks heating, but whether Bruce could see it over the flush of arousal, Dick wasn’t sure. He immediately felt silly over the notion of having Bruce’s cum inside of him, of superseding the claim Mac had made on him. “Could we not use …” he tried again, failing to get the words out.

“Dick,” Bruce said slowly, a frown marring his features as he leaned over Dick’s torso, studying Dick closely.

“Nevermind,” Dick said after a beat, feeling foolish. Of course Bruce would never go for something so risky. “It’s fine, let’s just --”

His words were interrupted with a heated kiss, causing Dick to tense briefly before melting into it. After a moment, Bruce pulled back.

“Tonight’s fine,” Bruce said, eyes sweeping Dick’s face as the younger man smiled back warmly.

“Thanks,” Dick whispered, reaching up to peck Bruce’s lips once more. Sitting back, Bruce coated both of them with a generous amount of lube, stroking himself a couple times before positioning himself at Dick’s entrance.

Dick tried to breathe deeply as he felt his chest tightening in anticipation and anxiety. He kept his eyes focused on Bruce, who was looking straight back at him to ensure Dick was doing all right. Dick nodded, resting his hands on Bruce’s biceps as the larger man leaned over, slowly pressing his hips forward as his lips captured Dick’s. Dick kissed back, his fingers digging into Bruce’s hard muscles as the blunt head of Bruce’s penis finally penetrated, pulling a gasp from Dick.

“Breathe,” Bruce encouraged quietly, stilling completely to allow Dick time to adjust. Dick nodded, panting harshly against Bruce’s mouth. After a beat, Dick swallowed, pressing his lips briefly to Bruce’s before nodding for him to continue.

Bruce pushed forward again slowly, methodically, controlled. Several more inches slid in before Dick groaned again, closing his eyes as he panted desperately against Bruce’s mouth. Bruce redistributed his weight, propping himself up on one hand as he reached down between them to grasp Dick’s wilting erection, trying to stroke it back to life. While Bruce understood that Dick’s lack of excitement may strictly be from the pain of intercourse after so long, he didn’t want to take any chances that Dick was remembering the last time intercourse was so painful.

“Open your eyes, Dick,” Bruce said gently, the deep vibrations of his voice reverberating in Dick’s ribcage. Dick complied, opening his eyes. Bruce could tell immediately he had made the right choice. Dick’s eyes revealed the war he was having internally. “That’s it,” Bruce coached, advancing once more until he bottomed out, his hips resting against Dick’s bottom. “Just you and me.”

Dick didn’t verbally respond, but when Bruce slowly pulled out before thrusting back in at the same tempo, Dick let out a loud groan.

“That’s it,” Bruce encouraged, feeling a response in Dick’s penis as well. He changed his grip, paying a little more attention to the head of Dick’s cock as he continued thrusting into him, allowing his rhythm to slowly increase.

“Bruce,” Dick moaned, back arching slightly as the pleasure started to outweigh the pain. The slick slide of Bruce’s penis in and out of him coupled with the friction of Bruce tugging on his cock had Dick’s senses short-circuiting. “Bruce,” Dick chanted again, tugging on Bruce’s arm to bring him back down for a kiss.

Bruce complied, capturing Dick’s mouth with his lips, their mouths moving hotly over each other, warring between breath and touch. Dick groaned loudly as the change in Bruce’s position changed the angle of his thrusts too, hitting Dick’s prostate perfectly with every stroke.

“Bruce,” Dick whispered, breaths coming in gasps, “I’m gonna …”

Bruce hummed, wetly claiming Dick’s mouth once more, picking up his tempo even more to try to push Dick over the edge. He didn’t have to wait long. Throwing his head back, Dick keened, his body tensing as his release ripped through him, making a mess between their two torsos.

Bruce groaned deeply as well, feeling Dick clenching tightly around him, pulling his orgasm from him at the same time.

As they both came down, Dick wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck, pulling him close to nuzzle and place closed-mouth kisses against his fevered skin. Bruce’s thrusts slowed to a halt. He remained inside Dick as he returned the kisses before looking over his lover, trying to gage his disposition.

Dick hummed contently, smiling lazily up at Bruce.

“That was better than I remembered,” Dick said, his smile turning sly.

Bruce cocked an eyebrow, not sure whether to be offended, humbled, or amused. Pulling himself gently out of Dick, he rearranged them so Dick was settled against his side, his head on Bruce’s shoulder, and their legs twining together. They could clean up in the morning. Tonight, he was going to leave his mark on the man in his arms, and if Dick didn’t complain, well, Bruce wasn’t going to either.


End file.
